


The King and Queen of Winter

by ShipMaester



Series: The True King Universe [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-03 21:30:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 46,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5307551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShipMaester/pseuds/ShipMaester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A continuation of The True King Vignettes and Conversations in the Firelight as an AU series that ships Stannis Baratheon and Sansa Stark and deals with the future of those in their orb as they face the first Winter of King Stannis' reign. It probably won't make sense without reading at least The True King Vignettes.  </p><p>GRRM owns all; no profit motive here!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All Things Being Equal

Sansa

Sansa Baratheon tried to wear the power of being queen lightly, determined to use it for the good of the kingdom and her husband's reign rather than for her own personal welfare. However, she did notice that even the slightest changes she made in what she wore set trends in fashion among ladies at court. To this end, she worked with the royal seamstress, Nichola, to fashion gowns with high collars for the winter. This would be an advantage to her step-daughter, Princess Shireen. The starched, ruffled collars would hide the grey scales on her neck and help to hide the ones along her cheekbone. Neither Sansa nor Nichola could think of anything other than a scarf or a new hairstyle to camouflage the scales on the young lady's cheek.

As Shireen modeled the gown before the looking glass in Sansa's solar, all three were pleased with the work. Both Sansa and she would wear new gowns sporting the high collars at tonight's feast honoring the newly arrived Ser Sandor and his bride, Alys, the widow of Lord Davos' oldest son. There would be a small ceremony where Sansa, as head of House Stark, would raise him to the title of Lord Clegane and bestow him with Dreadfort. The ceremony would be followed by a modest feast hosted by the king and queen in the Queen's Ballroom. She was surprised Stannis had agreed to, indeed, had recommended most of, the fete regarding The Hound. There were only two sources of insecurity she had found in her stoic husband. One regarded his older brother's slights against him and the second was anything to do with her friendship with Sandor Clegane. And he was right that it was more than a friendship, yet it was also less than a romance – at least on her part. She occasionally let her thoughts drift on what it might have been, followed by feelings of guilt. Her life as Stannis' queen was far better than she ever imagined possible when told of their betrothal. When she agreed to the marriage, and the startling thing had been that he had given her the opportunity to do otherwise despite her lady mother having made it a condition of Stark fealty, she knew he would protect her and show her respect. She hadn't imagined she would grow to love him and she certainly hadn't imagined she would feel loved by him.

The difference between Stannis Baratheon and Sandor Clegane was one of passion. She had little doubt Sandor Clegane would devour a woman he felt passionate about; she'd seen it in his eyes as he looked at her. In contrast, Stannis was embarrassed when he lost himself to passion, no matter how much she tried to encourage it. He saw to her pleasure and then found his release, but he seldom let himself truly lose control. In fact, the times had had seemed to lose himself to passion had been after something to do with The Hound, such as the waking her in the middle of the night after she had told him she had kissed The Hound's cheek in front of witnesses after Sandor had killed his brother to save them. The smile she cast into the looking glass behind Shireen at the thought of what tonight might bring forced her to come back to the present when Shireen looked back at her with a puzzled expression. When she was being sensible, Sansa considered Stannis' steely control a good trait. It made him a good king; one who made an extreme effort not to give in to using his power for his own pleasure. Sansa was content with the choice that had been made for her and that she had agreed to, even if she did allow herself to wonder about the path not taken once in a while.

Sansa refocused her attention on Shireen, who was trying to see if she could cover more of the scaly patches on her face with her dark hair. "It is a beautiful gown, Nicola. I wish I were able to show your work off to greater advantage."

"You look beautiful," Sansa affirmed. The past year had seen the girl's gangly features give way to a few curves and softened features. While disadvantaged with both the ravages of the greyscale and the large ears of her mother, she more than made up for it in poise and intelligence. Whoever married Shireen Baratheon would not find her boring unless he, himself, was an utter bore and chose to ignore her. It was this intelligence that Sansa admired most, knowing at the same age, she had been starry eyed and firmly ensconced in her fantasies of a golden prince and a life of song.

Shireen went behind a screen to change with Nicola's help and Sansa waited in silence until the seamstress had left them to make last-minute alterations to the waist and hem. "So, who do you hope approves more, Edric or Devan?" Sansa teased.

The girl's smile was genuine but held traces of her father's melancholy. "Edric will faithfully approve were I to appear in homespun. Devan would only take notice if I were brandishing a greatsword of valyrian steel."

'I know you favor one," Sansa continued as they sat for a moment's rest before further preparations for tonight's activities continued. "I just do not know which one. I would not know you favored either if you had not slipped and admitted to having had a stronger regard for one over the other."

"It is not that I wish to keep secrets from you," Shireen replied cautiously. "If you knew, you might accidentally let it be known to Father. If he knew, he would try to arrange a marriage believing it would make me happy."

"And you would not wish him to arrange a marriage to someone you regard? You make it sound as though it would not make you happy to marry someone you already care for."

Shireen considered before answering. "I would rather go equally into a marriage where both of us were doing so for the good of our families and the realm rather than marry someone I regarded who did not return that regard. The latter would only bring me sadness and cause him an undue burden of guilt at not returning my feelings in equal measure. Likewise, I would not want the burden of guilt being marrying someone with more regard for me than I felt in return."

She was sure Shireen had just confessed that her affection was for Devan Seaworth. Edric Storm's regard for her was unquestioned. There was great wisdom in what Shireen said, yet Sansa wished the girl felt more hope for her future. That hope may not be a good thing, but the lack of it felt cold and hollow. Somehow, she felt the need to interject a measure of optimism. "You are wise to think this way, Sweetling. I respected your father but did not love him when we were betrothed. It is quite possible the lack of expectation is what allowed such great regard for him to grow."

"I have witnessed both a cold and a loving marriage, and admit I find it puzzling," Shireen observed with a studious look Sansa had seen her use when applying herself to a problem given her by Maester Pylos. "Logic would dictate that my parents' marriage would have had the greater chance of success. They were far more equal in appearance and age. Your parents were more equal in age, appearance, and family and they were reputed to have had a very successful marriage. However, you and my father are, well, opposites is so many ways. I cannot help but feel your marriage would not be as successful were it not for your unfortunate experience with the Lannisters."

She hated to agree, but Shireen probably had the right of it. Had she not learned that an attractive face and honeyed words could hide the blackest of hearts and the most poisonous venom, she might never have been able to appreciate Stannis' frank words and a forthright manner.

"Of course, my father is amazed at his good fortune," Shireen continued. "I have to admit that I believe both of us thought you were making the best of your situation and telling yourself you had a real regard for him when it was impossible for you to do so. I am almost certain he first believed you were in earnest at the same time I came to believe it."

"I don't understand. Are you speaking of something I did to convince you both?" Sansa could think of nothing that was singularly remarkable that she had done publicly that would qualify as a revelation above any other. She was in no doubt about her love for Stannis and it pained her to be reminded that she was not always successful in convincing him. He often made it difficult for her to do so.

"We were having dinner with the Seaworths and you were telling a story about your sister, Arya. We were all laughing, except Father, who did genuinely smile. You reached over and took his hand as you spoke, forgetting you were a king and queen in the presence of your subjects. You were a wife speaking of a happy time and sharing it with those you cared for, especially your husband who you unconsciously touched in a loving way. It would have been far too cunning for you to have been engaged in such a story and consciously made such an effort. I remember gasping, although you did not notice. It was one of the few times Davos and Marya missed something important, they were so caught up in your story. The gesture was not lost on Father. You could have had the ghost of my Uncle Robert walk in and beg forgiveness for not giving him Storm's End and it would not have meant as much as that simple touch."

The story brought tears to Sansa's eyes. She had no idea such a simple gesture had meant so much. Despite the words she had spoken to him, the times she had held and been held by him, could it be that simply laying her hand on his and squeezing it while telling a story had done more? Surely not! Yet had she seen it in another pair, she might have felt she was observing something intimate.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the solar door. She knew it was Elise come to dress her for the evening. "Come, Sweetling. We have a long evening ahead of us."


	2. Let Us Be Frank

Stannis

 

King Stannis did not like this feeling of unreasonable jealousy invoked by Sandor Clegane. He knew the smile that lit up his wife's Tully blue eyes had to do with a combination of things this night – their hosting a feast; the compliments to her and Shireen's new gowns; but that smile was also due to the presence of The Hound. He wasn't entirely sure that The Hound's marriage made her all that happy. To all outward appearances, the presence of Lady Alys Clegane was welcome. Sansa had made a huge fuss over the woman when they arrived at the Queen's Ballroom with Lord and Lady Seaworth, and had been very circumspect in her greeting of the man who had killed his brother on her account and to whom everyone close to them knew she had some sort of odd relationship. His jealousy had nothing to do with what others thought or that he believed it to be an illicit relationship. Stannis was certain he had bedded a virgin on their wedding night and was equally certain she was and would always be a faithful wife, at least in body. He found it a source of ire that it mattered to him that she was equally faithful in her mind. Of course, he knew it was a rare person who did not have the odd stray thought, man or woman. Just as he knew most in this ballroom believed he had no thoughts along those lines one way or the other. It wasn't that odd thought that he begrudged. There was a hint of irony in the fact that he was married to a woman who one could convincingly argue was the most beautiful woman in Westeros and the man he looked on as a rival was certainly one of Westeros' most scarred, ugly, and crudest of warriors.

As Davos attempted conversation, Stannis kept an eye on the newly raised Lord Clegane of Dreadfort. He barely spoke and looked utterly uncomfortable surrounded by the court of King's Landing. It seemed they had more in common than Sansa. Social awkwardness aside, Clegane had good reason to be wary while visiting King's Landing, although not at this moment as no one would attempt to even an old score during a royal function. There were many here who had once considered Clegane an enemy, and probably still did.

The dinner portion of the feast had concluded and he could tell Sansa was pleased with the outcome. Once the dancing had started, she gathered Shireen, Lady Marya, and Lady Alys to participate. It gave him the opportunity he was looking for.

"Lord Clegane," Stannis said, clearing his throat, "I should like you to accompany me to the Map Room if you have no objection to leaving your feast for a short time."

"None at all, Sire," Clegane replied, getting to his feet and waiting for Stannis to walk down to his end of the table before following him out of the ballroom.

As they walked toward the Map Room, Clegane stayed one step behind him, forcing Stannis to have to look over his shoulder to address him. "My queen and your lady did not seem pleased by our departure."

He felt, rather than saw, the shrug of the large man as he rasped his reply. "I'd say my lady looked afraid while Little Bi. . . while the queen looked . . . less than pleased."

There it was. The familiarity he had to address. "Your name for the Queen . . . Little Bird. What is its origin?" he asked as he ushered them into the Map Room and motioned toward a seat across the table from the seat he took.

If Clegane found anything to fear in the question, he made no show of it. "Because of the chirping of courtesies she had to do to the Lannisters. Initially, it was to remind her to keep it up. Later, it became habit."

"I have no such name for her," Stannis observed, not realizing he had said it aloud until Clegane responded.

"You call her 'wife,' Sire."

"Indeed." Stannis found a grudging appreciation for Clegane in his lack of intimidation. Those allowed to remain in court who were once loyal to the Lannisters generally approached him with fear evident in their every mannerism. It made what he meant to say to this man easier. "It is your loyalty, a loyalty that has more behind it than the Queen's station in life, as well as your ability as a fighter and a trainer of fighters, that prompted me to encourage her to raise you to a lord. The North is not secure and it has obvious enemies as well as hidden ones smiling at the gates."

Clegane leaned forward, raising an eyebrow. His eyes darkened and what mouth he had formed a scowl that Stannis could envy. "Let me guess. Petyr Baelish."

"You guess well."

His face grew fiercer and his rasp had more of an edge. "May I speak frankly, Your Grace?"

Were he more capable of easy laughter, Stannis knew he would have done so then. Was his behavior up to this point politic? Had he not been genuinely interested in Clegane's thoughts on Baelish, he still would have agreed out of curiosity at what the man would say next. "As you wish," he prompted, ensuring his own scowl was firmly in place and his voice was not too obliging.

"I had my own role in the hells the rained down on the Queen, but I would gladly kill that turd for his willing part and anything he's got planned for the future. He can't help himself from trying to prove he's the most devious shit in the kennel. If Baelish were to suddenly be found dead, would Your Grace find it unjust that he was not brought before you, tried, and executed?"

Minus the unnecessary crudeness, this was the sort of frankness Stannis could approve. It would be fitting if such a little man could be brought down with little effort. "Your king could never publicly condone such an action. However, I can say with certainty that the crown would not make it its business to pursue his killer . . . should that happen. That said, if you sacrifice yourself, neither your wife nor my queen would thank you. It would also leave me one able commander short in the north, which does not serve the Queen."

Clegane sighed heavily and sat back. "You are not a kind man, Your Grace."

Stannis felt his scowl deepen. What had he said? "No, it is not a trait I am known for, although I fail to see what I just said to warrant such a statement."

"I have, for the most part, acted with respect towards the kings that have sat on the Iron Throne, but done so without their having earned my actual respect. I did not expect you to be any different. I knew you to be . . . smarter than the last two who sat on this throne. For what little it is worth to you, you have my respect, Sire. For putting her first and doing whatever that takes, you have both my loyalty and my respect." With something that was less than a sneer, but certainly not a smile, The Hound added, "And you are the king I would have most enjoyed having no respect for. It is cruel to rob me of that pleasure."

He understood him completely. "Yes . . . well . . . I do not want to have any more respect for you than you want for me, but there you have it. There is one roadblock to that respect, Clegane, and one reason I hesitated in sending you to Cape Wrath. How could you have left her to them or to me, not knowing what could have happened the night of the battle?"

"I asked her to come with me; she wanted to stay," was the only explanation offered.

Stannis tried to imagine the conditions that prevented this man from forcing her to leave. "And when she did not, you left her . . . defenseless." It came out sounding like the accusation it was. There was no denying he was glad of the outcome, but neither would he deny it baffled him that Clegane had left her to Joffrey Lannister having already witnessed the numerous beatings he had the others members of the King's Guard inflict.

The accusation was treated with a shrug. "I assumed if you were the victor that night, which I thought the most likely outcome, you would send her home or if you kept her at King's Landing, her situation would improve. If the Lannisters won the battle, it would have required Tywin's arrival. Once there, he would take over and Joffrey wouldn't get away with as much of his shit. I'd have killed him before he married her. "

It took a great deal of self-control not to show shock at the admission in The Hound's last statement. It was not in one's best interest to inform a king that one had considered becoming a kingslayer, even if the victim would have been an enemy. "How would you have done that when away from King's Landing?"

Clegane surveyed the room before answering and Stannis was uncertain whether there was any purpose to it other than to allow him time to consider how much he should own of this intention. "I would have found my way back in and no one would have known I was there. I learned that much from my time in this sh . . . here."

Shireen had confessed that "Ser Sandor's colorful turn of phrase makes me laugh." He wondered if Clegane had tried to clean up his language as much around Sansa and his daughter as he was trying now. Still, he stayed on point rather than upbraid him for his lack of decorum. "So why was I not in danger when you learned we were to be married or was it merely that you did not learn of it until it was too late?"

"They were going to marry her off to someone. You . . . you sure you want to hear this, Your Grace?"

"I did ask," he countered impatiently. He might be king, but he would rather hear the truth than what someone thought he wanted to hear."

"I thought you'd ignore her as you did your first wife," Clegane returned, his voice a little raspier than before, "I thought that was the best fu . . . best of it given her options."

Stannis knew and understood this type of frustration all too well. He hadn't felt it about a woman, but he had felt it when Robert gave Storm's End to Renly. It was time to put everything on the table if they were to see eye to eye. "Fair assumption, although incorrect. Let me be equally frank, Lord Clegane. First, I will allow this  _friendship_  you have with my queen up to a point. Sansa's heart does not always see where boundaries should be, but it is you who will pay if that line is crossed so be on your guard. Second, my Hand and his lady are very fond of your wife and see her as a daughter. I will not have them worried about her welfare or her happiness."

If Clegane took his words as a threat, he did not show it. "Understood, Your Grace."

That was it. He had said all he had to say to this man for the present. "Very well. We should return before Lord Davos finds he can no longer fend off our ladies from seeking us."

When they did return to the feast, they found Sansa sitting where The Hound had been doing her best to reassure Lady Clegane that all was well while making it look as though they conversed on the weather. It would have been impossible to say which lady gave him the stoniest glare upon their entry into the ballroom. Stannis glanced briefly at Clegane, who viewed it all with a smirk. He bowed to his king and then went to his wife. "Don't know what you're so excited about," he was heard to say to her. Alys Clegane was better at whispering, for he could not hear her reply as he returned to his seat and was met by Sansa doing the same.

"Was it necessary to interrupt the feast for whatever conversation you just had with our guest?" she said in low tones, but with a sweet smile for the benefit of the rest of the room. The blaze of those Tully blue eyes conveyed her true feelings.

"I felt it was necessary for us to reach an accord as soon as possible, so yes, it was necessary." Stannis responded calmly, but firmly.

This seemed to change her mood quickly to one of amusement. "And are the two of you in accord?"

Aware, but uncaring of the close scrutiny of them by others in the ballroom, Stannis trained his eyes forward as if observing the dance. "He called me cruel. I agreed."

This brought genuine laughter from his queen. "In other words, this . . . conversation . . . would have included me had you wanted me to know what it consisted of."

"Now  _we_  are in accord," he replied, the corners of his lips ever so slightly moving upward.


	3. Before the Fire

Stannis

There were times, as he walked the small hallway that adjoined his bedchamber to the one they had shared every night since his return from the North, that he resented his physical need of his wife. He would tell himself it made him weak that, even on nights when he was too exhausted to bed her properly, he still wanted to be next to her, to hold her. There were times when he almost convinced himself to turn around and go back to his bed and sleep alone, but he never managed it.

After the feast, they had gone together to check on their son Steffon, finding him sleeping peacefully under the watchful eye of his night nurse. "He is beautiful, is he not?" Sansa whispered to him, holding on to his arm and laying her head on his shoulder as they stood over the small bed fashioned for the boy now that he had outgrown his cradle.

"He looks too much like me to be called  _beautiful_ ," Stannis replied, not bothering to keep the pride out of his voice.

Now, as he bolted the door behind him to their bedchamber, he found her lying on her side, stretched out naked on the fur rug in front of the blazing fire. He wanted to tell her she, like this, was what you called  _beautiful_ , but couldn't get the words out. She raised an arm and outstretched hand to him, "It's warm here."

He shrugged out of his robe and threw it on the chair next to the bed and went to join her on the fur. As he began to lower himself, she tugged at the hem of his undertunic. "This off too," she instructed, her voice taking on a sultry tone he hadn't heard her use before.

Not used to following the commands of others, he eyed her suspiciously. Sansa patiently waited for him to make up her mind, looking up at him. The firelight seemed to blend with her auburn hair as it hung loosely behind the arm she used to prop herself up. He decided he wanted to see where she was going with this and pulled the undertunic over his head and tossed it on the fur and then lowered himself to lie on his side in front of her.

With her eyes trained on him, Sansa ran the back of her free hand along his jaw and then cupped it as she moved towards him. She had initiated their bedding before but had never taken the lead like this and Stannis was uncertain what was expected of him as she kissed him. The one thing he did know was this boldness was making him hard as a rock. Neither of them could be in no doubt about the fact that his body approved even if he wasn't sure his mind had fully acquiesced.

Stannis allowed both her exploration of his mouth with her tongue and of his chest with her hand. He could hear his heart thudding in his ears when her hand lowered to his groin and she took hold of him. For a moment, he thought she meant to bring him to release that way until she abruptly let go and sat up on her knees. She seemed to survey his position. "What do you want me to do?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

"Sit up . . . not on your side," she requested and Stannis moved so that his hands were flat on the rug behind him and his arms held his weight; his legs were sprawled in front of him.

"Now what?" Whatever she intended, it was obvious from the way she bit her lips and continued her inspection of the situation that she had either not planned this or it was not going according to plan.

There was no verbal answer. In an awkward, but satisfying move, Sansa made up her mind and straddled him, easing herself down on his manhood. They both moaned in unison so loud he actually looked around for someone to come busting through the door. When no one did come or seemed to have heard, Stannis scooted forward to sit so that he could take her weight and moved his hands to her bottom where he helped her raise and lower herself on him. She took a second to reposition herself so that, instead of being on her knees, she sat on his thighs and wrapped her legs around his flanks while still trying to steady herself with her hands on his shoulders.

In the two and a half years he had been married to her, his staying power had improved, yet he currently found that it took all his willpower and concentration to keep from peaking before she found her release. Sansa's blue eyes blazed in the firelight as she took a hand from his shoulder to reach down and move one of his hands from behind her to just above where they joined. He understood and repositioned it so that he still was able to help her move, but could use his thumb to rub the sensitive nub previously being neglected. This made her eyes grow wider and the riding motion she had previously been doing became more like a wild thrashing.

Stannis was beginning to think he couldn't manage to hold back any longer when he felt her whole body tighten, including the walls that surrounded him. Her whole body shuddered and she cried out his name before collapsing her head on his shoulder. That last movement before her head fell against him caused him to release so hard, he collapsed sideways onto the fur, bringing her with him.

They lay tangled in that awkward position for a few seconds while catching their breath before silently moving to where they were more comfortably laying on the fur with him spooned around her and their heads using his wadded-up undertunic for a pillow. Stannis draped his arm across her, checking to ensure the fire was giving off enough heat to keep her warm.

"We can't fall asleep here," he said after a while. "The fire will die out in the middle of the night."

"I know," Sansa replied softly, covering her mouth in a yawn and then laying it on top of the hand splayed against her stomach. "Just a few minutes more."

Stannis waited until his eyes were so heavy, he could barely keep them open before letting go of her and getting to his feet. He held out his hand and when she took it, he pulled her up and then bent to retrieve his badly wrinkled undertunic. Putting it on, he noticed she had a nightgown folded on the foot of the bed and was now slipping it over her head. She crawled into bed first and waited for him to settle before laying her head on his chest and cuddling into his embrace.

"No one will be in the Small Council early tomorrow morning; there was too much wine at the feast."

"I am usually working long before anyone arrives," he returned, giving in to a yawn as well.

"Not tomorrow," Sansa asserted. "Tomorrow morning, you will wake me long before you leave this bed."

Stannis was relieved no one could see the idiotic smile he knew he had plastered on his face, and that even Sansa, with her head sideways on his chest, could not see it. "You have suddenly become quite demanding," he muttered as he faded toward sleep.


	4. Northern Gossip

Stannis

Despite a throbbing head, Davos had forced himself to arrive at the Small Council chambers early to meet his king and tell him the latest news from the North that he had learned from Lord Clegane. It was possible some of it had been imparted during that impromptu meeting King Stannis and Clegane had during the feast, but Davos doubted the family news of the North and its possible effects on the realm were part of their conversation.

Not only was he shocked to find the King had not yet arrived when he got there, he was absolutely panicked when another hour passed and council members began to drift in without the King being yet present. Others took notice, obviously, but their first thought was that the King had stepped away from for some purpose or other and Davos did not admit to having been there over an hour already. He calmed slightly when he realized that, if the King's Guard were alarmed, they would have sought him out by now.

When King Stannis did arrive, he strode in wearing a scowl and appearing as if nothing was amiss. He looked each man present in the eye as if daring them to remark on his tardiness. No one rose to the challenge, although his uncle, Ser Lomas, seemed sorely tempted. Davos cleared his throat and began with the first order of business. He did not want to bring up the matters that had brought him to chambers early in hopes of a private word with the King.

The King seemed to take pity on those still suffering from the after effects of the first large feast held since his wedding and coronation and dismissed the Council after only four hours – a short session by Stannis' standards. Davos stayed seated while others made their way out. "You do not hurry to your guests, Hand?" the King remarked.

Davos knew it to be an introduction for him to go ahead with what he had stayed behind to speak of. "While Lord Clegane and I discussed matters for Dreadfort and dealing with any who may still be loyal to the Boltons, he made a casual remark about Lady Arya being at Winterfell and since I had not heard such news from you or the Queen, I did my best to pry out details without letting it be known I wasn't aware of this development."

King Stannis' scowl deepened. "What did you discover?"

Davos considered giving him Clegane's more colorfully spoken version of events but realized his king might not find the same amount of humor in it that he had. "It would seem that Lady Arya grew dissatisfied with Lady Stark's desire for her to marry one of the available sons of the Stark or Tully bannermen and took off with a small retinue for Winterfell without warning. Clegane says that Roslin Frey was left behind at Riverrun, but that her brother, Olyver, went with Lady Arya and sent word back of their arrival."

The King stared at one of the maps in front of him and seemed to ponder this news carefully. Davos could imagine he was considering it from both a political element and as a husband who would have to tell his wife of a quarrel between her mother and sister. After a while, he gave an assessment of the political aspects. "Winterfell has enough shelter and support for the lady and a small retinue. I don't think she will be in danger, but you will have to advise Clegane that we will want him to assist her as much as he can, given weather and situation. It is immaterial to me whether Lady Arya marries or not, and it is good that Winterfell is occupied by a Stark. I am concerned that news of their arrival was only validated by a Frey and equally concerned that Lady Stark has chosen to keep secrets from the Queen."

"Her safe arrival may have also been corroborated by the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, Sire. Clegane admitted he knew none of the details, but knew Lady Stark had received a raven from Snow saying he would be rendering assistance to her at Winterfell. He only knew this because there was much talk about how Lady Stark did not react as unfavorably about the Lord Commander's possible involvement as most assumed she would."

King Stannis shrugged. "Time and circumstances change things. I will need to communicate with Snow on this matter. The Gift is overrun with Wildlings who will not survive the Winter. An answer may be to move some to Winterfell in time to assist efforts there and also share the more abundant resources of the region. I will give Queen Sansa the right to say no to such a plan before I propose it to the Lord Commander. However, if she approves, she will have final say and not her lady mother, nor her sister. Was that all of the gossip Clegane brought from Riverrun?"

"Not entirely," Davos continued, smiling at his king's choice of words. "There are expectations of a wedding at Riverrun. I do not know whether to consider it ironic or . . . or perverse, Your Grace. It seems that Edmure Tully intends to marry a Frey daughter after all. It is why Roslin Frey stayed behind and did not join her brother in traveling to Winterfell."

"Is this some form of appeasement to the remaining Freys?"

"I hardly know," Davos confessed. "I asked Clegane if this daughter was, well, Your Grace, one of the homely Frey daughters or one of the ones reputed to be more comely. Were she one of the less striking ones, you could imagine it was appeasement. His answer was that Tully shouldn't be credited with making a great sacrifice at marrying this one."

The King picked up a quill and began rolling it absently between his middle finger and thumb. "I have a feeling we are going to regret that Stark did not wipe out the entire Frey family as we did the Boltons, and that is not a thought I relish having. Is there anything more?"

"No, Sire, except to thank you and the Queen for a splendid feast."

King Stannis gave him a stern look and then softened it, but only a fraction. "I will relay that to the Queen. She was concerned the activities of the day, along with the duties of hosting, may have been overly taxing for your lady."

"Thank the Queen for her concern," he countered, a bit surprised that Stannis had even remembered such a comment being made, much less in relaying it. "Marya is well and enjoying her guests."

"I understand Clegane is taking the boys out to the training yard today."

"Yes, Your Grace." Davos tread carefully. King Stannis was capable of seeing that Clegane received the merit due to him while still hating his guts all the while. He wasn't sure what the King's feelings toward the former Lannister man and close . . . _friend?_  . . . of his wife were. "At Cape Wrath, he convinced Stannis and Steffon that what they were doing was play and not swordplay. They are eager to show him how they have improved."

By all appearances, the King had spoken merely as a point of conversation and received the answer as such, but Davos knew this wasn't his way . . . he must have received the information he was looking for as he said no more on the subject. The King stood and Davos stood with him. "I will be in the Map Room until supper going over the accounts given me by the Master of the Coin. You need not join me; see to your guests. I understand they sail North the day after tomorrow."

"They do, Your Grace."

"The Queen and the Princess will want to see them off with you if you have no objection."

Davos did not, but he was surprised the King did not. He had helped him select Ser Aedan as the soldier back from the North for the Queen to publicly kiss on the cheek as she had done Clegane at Cape Wrath. "I will welcome them, Sire."

The reply that he was to ensure there would be no repeat of the parting event at Cape Wrath was unspoken, but Davos was sure he heard it clearly in the considered look his king gave him before leading him out of the Small Council chambers.


	5. Going Green

Marya

Carrying a child while at six and thirty years was not as easy as it had been when she was six and ten or even six and twenty. Marya had believed this time would be easier as she had no other babes to carry at the same time. It was not so. As she had kept some of the weight she had gained while carrying each of her sons, her back ached now that she had more weight to carry. The Queen graciously visited her daily in the Tower of the Hand rather than expecting her to wait upon her in her apartments and Shireen spent most of the time she was not in her studies with her in an attempt to make things easier for her. The girl's efforts sometimes proved more taxing, yet the concern was greatly appreciated.

With Shireen's presence often came the presence of Edric Storm. He was a gracious lad and had the gregarious manner she had heard was a trademark of his natural father, the late King Robert. She found it amusing to watch him trying his best to win Shireen's favor. All the while, she had her father's ability to keep her emotions in check and show her true feelings to no one when she was so inclined. Maybe it was a mother's pride, but Marya was certain she saw something different in Shireen's dark blue eyes when she looked at Devan, coupled with the fact that she never looked at him for more than a second before turning away. Marya had believed Devan oblivious to Shireen, except as a playmate from their younger years with whom he had a degree of familiarity. She had believed that until she saw him watching Edric Storm make Shireen laugh as he told her and acted out stories from the training yard.

She followed him out onto the balcony, although it was cold and damp. "Storm is still such a child despite his age," Devan mumbled, rolling his eyes.

"It is not my experience that a boy child would make such an effort to entertain a young lady," she returned, carefully observing his reaction.

"I don't know why," Devan said with an edge in his voice that reminded her far more of King Stannis than of Davos. "She will not be married to a bastard, even if he is the late King Robert's bastard. Besides, he's too closely related to her. With their mothers being sisters and their fathers being brothers, that's practically the same as being brother and sister."

Marya knew Devan was correct on both counts. It did not follow that King Stannis would not approve of a match between Devan and Shireen. Did she and the Queen not joke around about matching two of their offspring someday? For as much as she loved the girl as if she were her own, because of her deformity, offers for Shireen's hand were thin on the ground for a princess and firstborn of a king. Davos had relayed that there had recently been talk of Denys Redwyne, but she had heard no more about it other than that one brief mention.

Marya decided to dig a little deeper to ensure she had the right of what was behind Devan's foul mood. "Because he cannot marry her does not mean that he cannot be kind to her. As you say, they are practically brother and sister."

Her son gave her a look she'd seen on the faces of her older sons about the time they were his age now; a look that tried to convey she was completely ignorant. "Mother, a man simply does not give that much attention to a sister." Then, the harsh look softened and he tried to take the sting out of the tone he used to her by adding a joke, "Well, one doesn't unless one is a Targaryen or Ser Jaime Lannister."

She wanted to reproach him for such a crude comment, but it was too late after she had already let a small laugh escape. "Perhaps not, but as long as it doesn't go too far, it is good for both of them."

"Why would you think that?"

"Well," Marya replied to her son, again eyeing him for a reaction, "For Edric, he could be said to be practicing his skill at entertaining a young lady whom he can marry. And for Shireen, it is good for her to get attention from a young man before she is courted seriously."

"Shireen will not be courted," he said with disdain. "She is the daughter of a king. She will be told whom to marry and she will do so."

"And you would wish it otherwise?"

Devan showed the first sign of genuine sadness in his grey eyes. "I hope to be knighted and sent away before that happens. I do not wish to watch her marry someone who does not regard her properly." Knowing he had revealed too much, Devan tried to cover, "After all, we do not have blood to mark our relationship, but we have grown up if brother and sister."

"Of course," Marya answered, at a loss for anything else to say. She had followed him out to see if she could assess whether he had any tender regard for Shireen only to learn it was far deeper than she imagined. It would do no good to mention this to Davos, even if she added her suspicions that Shireen cared for their son as well. He would tell her it was the King's decision and act as though the Hand would have no say in the matter. In this case, he probably would not. Most who were nobles by birth would view the marriage of their children as a matter of politics. Davos would not. He would want to think that the King, as a father, was trying to do his best for his daughter, and if the realm were to benefit from the match, so be it. Admittedly, there was no added benefit to King Stannis' reign or to the kingdom from a marriage of the Princess to the son of his faithful Hand.

She was still trying to think of something to say to either comfort or reassure her son when Shireen joined them out on the balcony. "Lady Marya, would you like me to procure a wrap for you? There is a chill in the air."

"Yes it is cold and I should go back inside. The Queen will be here shortly."

Devan offered an arm to her, "I should have considered it was too cold out here for you."

"You did not ask me to follow you out."

Once inside, Devan excused himself and said he desired to spend time in the training yard before getting back to Maegor's to be there when the King returned from the Small Council. "Coming, Edric?" he asked, not being entirely successful at making it sound like the answer he would receive was of little interest to him.

"You would find staying not the least diverting, Edric," Shireen supplied and Marya wished the girl could have seen the look of satisfaction Devan gave her, but she was turned away from him. "Once the Queen arrives, we will be doing needlework and your presence will keep us from talking about the things ladies talk about only with other ladies."

Edric did not bother to hide his sulk. "I'll go then. Will I see you before supper?"

"I will be reading with Maester Pylos later today if you care to join us," Shireen replied, her gracious tone copied from her step-mother. "We will be reading histories today."

It was all Marya could do not to laugh and she saw Devan making a similar effort. Edric was not one for studies, and certainly not one with any appreciation for history.

As both young men left them, it occurred to Marya that the one most likely to make the decision about whom she married would be Shireen herself. Her father would not likely deny her and Sansa was too much of a romantic to form any objection to Shireen having her heart's desire. But just because the girl favored Devan, it did not follow that she wished to marry him. All Marya could do was wait and hope her son's heart would not be broken.


	6. The Highs and the Lows

Sansa

Nothing captured Sansa's heart like the sight of their son, Steffon, waddling with his short legs as fast as he could travel to in an effort to reach his father whenever Stannis entered into his presence. His father would immediately bend to catch him and swing him up to hold him. The boy, halfway to his second nameday, would try to imitate his father's trademark scowl, which almost always caused Stannis to lose the scowl and break out into his version of a smile, causing Steffon to instantly change his expression to mimic that as well. To her utter delight, Stannis would grumble that his son was being spoiled and handled far too much, all the while holding his son firmly in his arms and not offering to put him down until Steffon decided it was time to go explore elsewhere.

For all that the young prince liked being held by his parents, the person he gravitated to most and would forsake all others for if within eyesight was his sister. If Shireen's hands were occupied and she couldn't hold him, he would insist on playing at her feet. His first discernible word had been "horsey" in an attempt to get her to bounce him on her knees.

It was morning, just after breaking fast, that Sansa was sitting in her solar watching her son occupy himself with the wooden blocks Maester Pylos had whittled for him when a sudden wave of nausea hit her. She rushed to the wash basin, barely making it in time. Her unusual sudden movement and the sounds she was making caused Steffon to begin to whimper, looking at her in alarm. There was nothing she could do until she was certain there was nothing left to come back up. She poured water into a cup and rinsed her mouth before picking Steffon up to reassure him. "I believe you are about to get a brother or a sister in about eight moons my prince," Sansa cooed at him. "How would you like a sister for you to grow up protecting? Or a brother perhaps? You could teach a brother as you learn."

In the days that followed, Sansa did her best to ensure no one learned of her pregnancy before she decided to tell Stannis, to the point of dumping the contents of the basin into the garderobe and washing it out herself whenever she had to make use of it. She wanted to tell him, but she wanted to be certain before doing so. It was another fortnight before she began feeling the sensitivity in her breast that she had felt in the early days of carrying Steffon. It was time to consider telling her husband that he was to be a father again, and she was considering whether it was strictly necessary to confirm it with Maester Dion first. She rather liked the idea of the two of them being the only ones to know for a short time.

She was reflecting on the words to use shortly after Steffon was put down for his nap, trying to come up with some witty way to tell him when Elise knocked and entered her solar, breathless and excited. "Your Grace, as I came back from the wash house, I learned that Maester Dion was summoned to attend Lady Seaworth."

"Did you hear what it was about or how long ago this was?" Sansa asked in a panic. It was at least two moons before her babe was expected.

When the young girl shook her head, Sansa stood, "Please fetch my wrap and stay close by in case the Princess comes here after her studies instead of going straight to the Tower of the Hand. Do not tell her what you know; just tell her where I am and to meet me there."

Elise curtsied, still trying to catch her breath, and then went into the bedchamber wardrobe to reappear a few seconds later to lay a warm wrap around her queen's shoulders.

Once out of her apartments, she was met by her daytime guard, Ser Aedan. "When we have arrived at the Tower, if Lord Davos is not already there, I would like you to ensure he is sent for."

"Yes, Your Grace," the knight replied, giving her his arm. The rest of the walk was done in silence and they were met by her husband and Ser Rolland coming from the direction of the Tower. As soon as she saw Stannis, she let go of Ser Aedan's arm and ran to him. "What has happened?"

Stannis put his hands on her forearms to steady her. "Davos and Maester Dion are with Lady Marya. There are complications, but I know not what."

The hurriedly walked back to the tower, Ser Aedan and Ser Rolland following, and were met by Maester Dion when they entered the private audience. "Is she . . . are they . . ." Sansa started but found herself unable to form words.

"Your Grace," the maester bowed to them both, "Lady Seaworth showed signs of possibly losing the child this afternoon, but has not done so. She will need to stay abed until the child comes, and when that will be will determine whether the child will live."

"Is Lady Seaworth in danger?" Stannis asked, clearing his throat afterwards.

"I do not believe so, but I cannot be certain, Sire."

Sansa looked around the audience. "Where are the Seaworth boys?"

"Lord Seaworth asked his eldest to take them to the training yard," Maester Dion replied. "He sits with her now."

Tears filled her eyes, knowing the woman that was friend, sister, aunt, and sometimes even mother to her was in the next room fearing one of the worst things a woman could fear – the loss of her child. She instinctively moved her hands to her stomach, knowing the pain of loss would be no less even if you had not had the opportunity to hold your baby or hear its first cry.

"Is there no more you can do for her?" Stannis continued.

"I am afraid not, Sire. All we can do is wait."

This was not the sort of answer Stannis wanted to hear on any matter and she admired the maester for keeping to the truth and not making up something for their benefit, although she could use a comforting lie at the moment.

Stannis dismissed the maester and turned his attention to her. "I shall speak to Davos before we leave unless you feel you could be of help if you stayed?"

She considered for a minute and he allowed her the time to do so. "The best we can do for them right now is to see to the younger boys. I shall send word that they will have supper with us. Shireen and Devan will assist me in planning for their care for the immediate future. "

She watched as her husband knocked on the door of the bedchamber and announced himself in a measured tone, certain to be heard by one awake, but not loud enough to disturb someone sleeping. The door soon opened and Sansa felt the first real wave of panic. The man who stood in the doorway listening to his king appeared years older than the man she had seen just two days prior as they supped the Seaworth and Baratheon families had supped together in this very Tower. Sansa could not hear what was said and didn't try. Her heart felt like it was breaking as she watched Stannis talk to the person who could arguably be said to be the closest person to him, including her. She took in a sharp breath when she saw Stannis lay a hand on the man's shoulder and pat it awkwardly as Davos tried to bow before returning to his wife's bedside.

"She is awake, but resting," Stannis informed her, taking her hand to help her up. "He thanks you for seeing to his sons and says he will send word later in the evening or if need be."

Sansa did not want to leave, but she knew there was little she could do for the present. It wasn't until they were out of the Tower that she let her tears fall. "She cannot lose this baby." She had started to say that she could not lose this baby after having lost four sons to the Battle of Blackwater but realized in time that it might sound as if Stannis was responsible and she did not want him to feel that burden.

Stannis took her hand and put it in the crook of his arm in the same manner she had taken his arm the day he told her of their betrothal. She clung to him tightly as they walked back to Maegor's Holdfast. Sansa knew now was not the time to tell him she was with child. He would be angry with her if she waited until they knew the fate of the Seaworth's child, but she could not bring herself to tell him what only a few hours ago she had imagined would make this a day of celebration.


	7. What We Have Is a Failure to Communicate

Stannis

Sansa was keeping something from him, of this he was certain. For the first sennight, he thought it was something simple like not wanting to admit how frightened she was for Lady Marya. She threw herself into caring for Marya and her sons. It wasn't unexpected that he would find her asleep when he came to their bed at night, although she still found him and snuggled against him.

Changes were slow in developing but convinced him nonetheless that her feelings toward him were changing. One night he followed her straight into their bedchamber after seeing Shireen to bed and checking in on Steffon, and she told him she was tired and fell asleep almost immediately. That night, she stayed on her side of the bed. Stannis, despite knowing it he had been alone most of his life, had never felt so lonely.

Pride kept him from asking her outright, even as other signs began to develop. Her avoidance of him in bed was soon followed by avoiding him other than at supper when Shireen or others were present. When they did interact, Sansa's inquiries regarding his day were polite, but she did not really seem to listen to what he would reply to any of her questions. Her smiles no longer reached her eyes, and he stopped putting himself in her way. Stannis began working until the early morning hours and falling asleep in the Map Room. When she did not censure him for this behavior, Stannis knew – he had lost her. He knew not how or why, but it was obvious to him that Sansa no longer cared for him as she once did.

They lived as strangers, Stannis throwing himself into the business of the realm and ensuring Davos had as much time as possible to be with his wife while Sansa spent part of her day with Lady Seaworth and then to the care of her younger sons and Steffon. Each day he felt them grow farther apart and he felt helpless to stop it. Stannis also knew it affected the way he treated others around him. He had railed at his Uncle Lomas in a Small Counsel meeting for something that he would have tolerated with, yes, a patently disdainful look, but not the cutting words he had used to the older man. Had he acted thus towards Ser Axell, no one would have looked at him as though something was seriously amiss, but he was known for his tolerance of Ser Lomas and he saw the shock and concern on each face, making him even more angry. At least the rumors were that he was overly concerned about the Seaworth child and that everyone in the royal family as showing signs of stress.

Marya Seaworth had been abed just over a moon when the labor pains started again. Davos was in the Small Counsel chambers when he was sent for in the early morning. Without ceremony, the meeting came to a halt and Stannis accompanied his Hand to the Tower. There, he learned that Sansa and Maester Dion were already with her. Davos insisted that he would be allowed to stay with her as well. Stannis could hear muffled screams from the private audience where he sat with Devan; he wished he could think of something to say to the lad as he watched his face grow whiter and more strained with each cry. Shireen soon arrived, announcing that Edric Storm had taken the younger Seaworth boys to the training yard to occupy their time before she, too, disappeared into the bedchamber. Within an hour, the private audience had gained Ser Lomas and Ser Andrew Estermont, who did their best to make conversation and had some success in diverting Devan with tales of knighthood and battles. Servants, Stannis wasn't sure who directed them, appeared with trays of food and drink. The trays remained untouched.

Ser Lomas left them as the hours grew late, and Edric Storm joined them after handing the Seaworth boys off to nurses who fed them supper and saw to putting them to bed. It was close to midnight when they heard the maester instructing Lady Marya to push. Stannis felt like he was holding his breath until he heard a cry that was distinctly that of a baby. They all knew there would be no celebration until someone came from the adjoining room and told them how Lady Marya fared.

Although it seemed longer, it couldn't have been no more than a few minutes before Sansa appeared, closing the door behind her. Stannis noted the blood stains on her gown with alarm as they all stood. "Your Grace, Sers, Devan . . . Lord and Lady Seaworth's daughter has arrived."

"And my lady mother?" Devan asked.

"She is weak, but well," Sansa assured him, smiling such as Stannis had not seen of her since Lady Marya had been sent abed. She then turned her attention towards him and he thought she was going to speak to him, but then she turned toward the sound of the door opening behind her.

Davos held the tiny bundle close and Stannis walked forward to receive him. "Your Grace, I introduce you to your newest subject, Lady Alysane Seaworth. " The look of delight and relief on his Hand's face as he held his daughter was palpable, yet Stannis felt concern over the size of the baby. He had never beheld one so tiny. Wrapped in swaddling, she would barely reach from the tip of Davos' fingers to a quarter of the way down his forearm.

He knew he was required to say something . . . anything. "She is beautiful, my Lord Hand, which means she is fortunate in that she favors her mother."

Stannis was relieved when his quip was met with laughter, including from Sansa. Their eyes met and she favored him with a look of approval. Instead of giving him a feeling of relief, it served to anger him and he had to force himself not to grind his teeth and confuse those around him. Despite that, he waited for her and Shireen for another quarter of an hour to allow Ser Rolland and Ser Aedan to escort them back to Maegar's Holdfast. Sansa was obviously exhausted and both allowed an excited Shireen to chatter on as they walked.

For the view of their guards, Stannis politely said goodnight to his queen as was their custom when they reached her apartments. Stannis returned to his apartments and began pacing; the more he paced, the more enraged he became. He had already spent sleepless nights trying to remember some way that he had offended her. A sennight ago, Stannis had considered the possibility that she was ill, yet when he interrogated Maester Dion regarding her health, the maester had assured him that the queen had not been to see him with any complaints.

The door to the bedchamber was not bolted; not that Stannis truly believed it would be. Just as he knew he would be accepted into her bed without any objection. The difference was a matter of feeling welcomed, wanted. Had they started with merely that acceptance of duty; had she never been keen . . . eager . . . loving . . . he would not feel the loss. The fact that she was so soundly asleep made him start grinding his teeth – it was no more than a moon ago that she would have stayed awake, no matter how long, for him to join her. Stannis sat on the edge of the bed and watched her. Angry and hurt as he was, he felt his anger begin to subside as he watched her. What did he really expect her to feel?

Stannis stood carefully and started to leave when he heard her. "Stannis?"

"Go back to sleep."

Sansa sat up, wiping the sleep from her eyes. "Don't go . . . please." She reached up toward him, but he didn't take her hand and let her pull him back to the bed.

"Why?" Stannis knew his voice sounded as hard as iron.

"I've kept something from you," Sansa admitted, putting her arm down and moving to sit on the edge of the bed next to where he stood.

"Are you sure you wish to tell me now?" he asked, unsure why since he wanted nothing more than to find out what was at the root of her change towards him.

"Please, Stannis. Sit with me. "

Stannis watched her for a moment, and when he realized his resistance was only to hurt her as he felt hurt, he acquiesced and sat back down on the bed, but not beside her. He put enough distance between them so that he could turn toward her. "I'm listening."

In the firelight, he saw tears begin and had to tuck his hands under his thighs to keep from pulling her to him. Instead, he waited and watched as she began to tremble and the tears began to flow. Finally, he could take no more. "Sansa, just say it, whatever you have to say . . . say it now."

"I'm with child!" she blurted out, sniffling.

"With . . . child?" Stannis repeated in disbelief and then he felt a pang in his chest that felt genuinely like his heart was breaking. "Are you saying you do not want our child?"

The quick reactions of a trained soldier were what allowed him to grab her wrist as she raised her hand to strike him. He held it aloft and they stared at each other. "I'm . . . I'm sorry . . . I . . . Oh, Stannis!" Suddenly, she threw herself into his arms and began sobbing on his shoulder.

The rush of words that followed reminded him of an earthen dam had burst and water was flowing again. "I was so happy and I was thinking of how to tell you when we learned that Marya was in danger of losing her baby. You were so afraid for me when I was carrying Steffon and I decided to wait to tell you, thinking I did not want to worry you. Each day I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid it wasn't a good time and with every passing day, I grew more afraid that I'd waited too long and you would be angry. I was tired from the pretense and worry. I didn't know what to do . . . or what to say . . . so I said nothing."

Stannis took it all in, at first with a measure of disbelief. Slowly, he began to rub her back with one hand and hold her closer to him with the other. "You can have no idea what I thought . . . what I feared."

Sansa's tears began to dry as she clung to him tightly. "I did not want to give you another worry while you had to deal with weighty matters without Lord Davos' full attention."

"Sansa," Stannis began, kissing away the tears on her cheeks, "I thought you no longer wished to . . . that you . . ."

Pulling back, she looked at him curiously. "What  _did_  you think, My Love?"

Stannis could not fathom that she had not a clue that he had believed she'd grown indifferent to him. His first thought was that Sansa must not have considered him at all during this time. Then he realized how selfish that thought was. She  _had_ been worried about putting an extra burden on him, worried about Marya, worried about keeping her sons from fearing for their mother, and worried about their unborn child in the face of the realization that childbearing does not always go smoothly. He searched her face in the dim light, finding her look of curiosity now replaced with one of concern. "It does not matter now. You have had a very long day, My Queen. Can you sleep?"

"I can if you are beside me," Sansa replied, moving back into the bed and pulling on his arm to bring him with her. "It will be the first peaceful sleep I will have had in ever so long."


	8. Family Matters

Sansa

There was an unusual look in her husband's eyes as he joined her and Shireen in the chamber that had been fashioned into a family dining area where they usually had their supper. She felt a sense of panic when, instead of going straight to his seat so that they would be seated as well, he walked to her and kissed her forehead and then patted his daughter's arm.

"I have news," Stannis said as he took his seat, allowing them to do the same. "It is good news."

Sansa let out the breath she had been holding. "What news?"

"The Lord Commander of the Night's Watch sent a raven to Riverrun that your brother, Rickon, was discovered as one of the wildlings at The Gift. According to your Uncle Blackfish Tully, Snow has verified it is, indeed, your younger brother. He also says that Snow has it that your brother, Bran, is alive as well, or was. It seems Theon Greyjoy burned the bodies of two farm boys as a show to his men when he discovered your brothers had escaped."

Conversation stopped as servants put food before them and it gave Sansa time to take it all in. "Bran was not found?" she asked once the servants had left the table.

"Little was said, but it was implied he was not with his younger brother. Rickon has been cared for by a wilding woman who had been living at Winterfell."

Sansa was confused by this. "I knew of no wilding living at Winterfell, but I am glad of her."

Shireen, who had been quietly listening, reached over and laid her hand on her arm. "I am very glad of your good news. Now that I have a younger brother, I know the pain you have had at believing you to have lost yours." Sansa returned her gesture with a weak smile, as she was still processing the incredible news.

Stannis continued with what he had to tell her. "The raven says that your lady mother will be leaving for Winterfell, despite the snows. It does not say who will accompany her or when she leaves."

Sansa felt a sense of relief wash over her as if she had lost a burden she had no idea she was carrying. "The Stark name may yet endure, it seems. Have we any further proof of this being Rickon other than the raven from my uncle and what he tells from my brother, Jon?"

Concentrating on his food, Stannis gave a slight shrug. "Ravens have become sparse from that far north and, as you know, Winterfell took the ravens from Dreadfort that travel to Riverrun and The Wall while leaving the ones that travel here. Davos is making efforts to verify the information. We returned a raven to Riverrun with our hope that this news is true, yet expressing concern that Lady Stark should wait until we have additional verification before she attempts such a perilous journey."

"She will not," Sansa told him knowingly. "I know this because I want to go myself and while the babe I carry is enough to keep me from it, were it not for the child, it would take your very strong insistence that I exercise such caution. She has no one capable or good cause to curb her in this regard." She felt a sense of foreboding that her mother may, indeed, be rash in rushing to Winterfell. "Do you know how deep the snows are between Riverrun and Winterfell?"

"I do not," Stannis' scowl held, but his eyes showed a trace of sympathy. "I know you long to see your sister and now you will pine for your brother. I do hope we can make the trip when Spring arrives. Perhaps, by then, your brother Bran will have been discovered. Of course, this means that, if it truly is your younger brother, you are no longer Warden of the North."

Sansa was glad to hear that his tone conveyed this was an insignificant matter as far as he was concerned. "For which I could not be happier," she assured him in return. "In fact, his having had experience with the wildlings will be of benefit to him in dealing with those in The Gift and will be a benefit to his future as the liege of Winterfell. As you said, they will eventually spill into Winterfell out of need. I wonder if he has adopted wilding manners and customs while among them?"

"That is highly likely," Stannis agreed after he had swallowed a bite of the roasted pork. "I am sure one of the reasons Lady Stark is so anxious to make haste to Winterfell, other than to be reunited with her son, is to see that he is made to remember who he is and to attempt to deal with any changes in habits that may have occurred."

Sansa bit her lip as she thought. Her lady mother was an intelligent woman, but as far as Sansa knew, she had never had to adapt to her surroundings to survive. It could be said she had to adapt to Northern customs to assimilate, but Sansa did not think that as severe as the changes Rickon, Arya, Bran, and even she had had to make to actually survive since they were all last together as a family at Winterfell. Fortunately, Rickon was young and it was possible he would find returning to his previous way of life the easiest if he had any memory of it at all. He may also rebel and find life back at Winterfell, with far more rules and codes of behavior, oppressing after the life he had been leading. Rickon's return, while satisfying if it proved her brother was alive and well, may not be the golden light of the return of the Stark family that everyone hoped it would be.

She also wondered what this would mean for Arya. Somehow, Sansa doubted this would lessen her lady mother's intentions for Arya to marry. Mother had told her she felt Arya had formed an attachment while away, and Sansa now wondered if she would be able to contact him and become reacquainted with him. Sadly, she knew it did not follow that the man Arya may have developed affections for returned them. It was hard for her to imagine the Arya she knew having developed feelings of affectionate regard unless he had won that regard by besting her at swordplay.


	9. Denial is a River that Flows Freely

Stannis

Stannis had been told that Sansa slept very lightly, and sometimes not at all, in his absence. It was hard to believe the woman lying on the bed before him had the least trouble sleeping. She had not heard the light, but insistent knock on the door in the early morning and he was grateful. Davos came personally with the raven in hand, his complexion matching the grey of his beard. Stannis did not have to read to know his Hand had brought him grim news.

They had withdrawn into the Queen's solar where Stannis took the rolled parchment and read it. "You have verified it is Tully's seal?"

"It is, Your Grace," Davos replied gloomily. "Should you wait until we have some . . . some verification, particularly in light of the more fantastical claim?"

"She would not thank me for waiting. As to the last part, I hardly know what to think. I know what you were told by Clegane . . . Melisandre told of such powers and we can hardly deny . . ." Stannis sat back and sighed, "I don't know how I shall tell her of that possibility."

His first priority was to his wife's health, and that of their unborn child. To that end, he decided to let her sleep and then to allow her to break her fast with Shireen before he came to her with the news. It was going to be a very long morning. Taking one last look at her sleeping form, Stannis left for his chambers to dress and then wait in the Map Room. Davos would go to the Small Counsel and break the news. He gave Davos instructions to allow them to discuss repercussions, but to firmly let them know that he would attend them later that afternoon and, possibly, not until the next morning. Only Ser Axell would find any objection to his staying with his Queen for as long as possible.

He didn't look up when Ser Rolland entered the Map Room with word that the Queen had finished breaking her fast. Stannis merely got up and made his way out and down the hall toward the main entrance to the Queen's apartments, allowing Storm to follow.

Sansa looked up when he entered the room after a brief knock on the door. She would be expecting Steffon's nurse to be bringing him to her for the morning and the smile she wore when she turned toward the door quickly died. "What is it?" she asked as she and his daughter stood, alarm evident on their faces. Stannis had thought he wore his usual expression, but perhaps his very presence at this time of day was warning that something was not as it should be.

"Please sit, Sansa." His voice was harsh and what he meant to sound like a request came out more like a command. In spite of it, she did as she was bid and he came next to her, kneeling beside her chair, he took her hand. "My Queen, as you know, your lady mother insisted on leaving for Winterfell about a moon ago. A raven came in the early hours of the morning from Riverrun She was ambushed by men believed to be from Walder Frey's family. The news in the raven is that they killed your lady mother and all those traveling with her."

Stannis felt her body stiffen with every word he spoke. Shireen came to stand behind her, placing her small hands on Sansa's slumped shoulders. "Who found her?" Sansa probed, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Edric Dayne made his way to Riverrun thinking to find your sister there. He has been with a group that calls themselves the Brotherhood without Banners. Their leader was a man sent out by your father to hunt down Gregor Clegane. Lord Clegane told Davos that Arya had been with them and that they tried him for crimes while with the Lannisters, and allowed him trial by combat. Clegane claimed he killed the leader in this combat, Ser Beric Dondarrion, and that he was brought back to life by a red priest."

Stannis waited for this to digest before continuing. "Dayne claimed to your Uncle Blackfish that Dondarrion gave his life to resurrect your lady mother and that he saw her alive before he left."

He felt her body relax, although her voice was excited. "Then, of course, that must mean that she really was not dead! My uncle must send out men to find her and take her back to Riverrun."

"Dayne claims that while Lady Stark appeared alive, she was not as you would expect . . . that her flesh is still the color of death and that she cannot speak." The words sounded ridiculous to hear them spoken aloud, but he had seen strange, unearthly things, especially in dealing with the adherents of the red god. He would never tell her of the creature of smoke and shadow Melisandre had been capable of birthing and having kill according to her will.

Stannis watched Sansa's face and then saw her straighten her back and look him squarely in the eye. "Lord Edric . . . or is he Lord Dayne now . . . regardless, he is but a boy and, as such, believes fanciful tales. This brotherhood may have my mother and they may be the culprits instead of Frey marauders. I will write my Uncle Blackfish this morning, although I am sure he has already sent out men to seek her and those with her."

Denial was not something he had expected from her, but perhaps it was for the best at the moment. Indeed, if he had not seen the things he had, he would have drawn the same conclusion. However, deep inside, Stannis knew it was as Edric Dayne said. "Clegane has been among them and may know how to find them. I will have Davos send ravens to both to suggest, if he knows of anything that would assist your Uncle, that he provide it. Do you wish any word sent to your sister at Winterfell?"

Sansa bit her lip, something she was prone to doing when in deep thought. "I think not. Wouldn't you agree that Dayne's account is so unreliable that my lady mother could still be on her way to Winterfell and arrive there any day?"

He could not deny it was convenient to allow her to believe as she did. Forestalling deep grief would be a benefit to the child and to disabuse her would require telling her things she did not need to know, or more precisely, things he would never tell her. And even then, Sansa would probably not believe him because she did not want to believe.

"Jon Snow could be of use in searching for her. If she was taken," the words stuck in his throat as it felt like lying to her, "she could be closer to Winterfell than to Riverrun."

More guilt was heaped on him as Sansa's eyes lit up as if he had made the most strategically brilliant suggestion, "You are right, of course."

Stannis ventured a brief look upward to Shireen. She knew he was leading his wife, but he saw no hint of reproach in her expression – only pity, and he suspected it was for both of them.

"What have you planned for the day?" he asked, needing to know her whereabouts should they receive another, more definitive raven. While he had originally planned to stay with her, offering to do so now could shatter the illusion for her.

"We were going to visit Marya and Alysane later this morning," Sansa replied, instinctively laying a hand on her increasing belly. Should I stay here? Do you think there will be more news forthcoming today?"

The more Stannis considered it, there might be more word from Riverrun or even farther north today, but it was not likely news that he could bring her that would sway her one way or the other. "If there is, I will know where to find you. Enjoy your visit."

This brought a frown from his wife that turned into a look of sadness followed by tears that threatened to spill onto her cheeks. "I know it could be true; at least that my lady mother may have met misfortune on the way to Winterfell. I am not such a fool that I do not know such an action from the Frey's is not possible. It was part of the reason we asked her to wait. I just . . . it would be so cruel to find I did not lose a brother only to lose my mother so soon afterward."

"I know," he replied in a whisper, believing it to be the only way his voice did not sound severe. "But if it is true, we will go on . . . for Steffon and for this little one." He laid his hand over the one she had placed on her belly. "We will go on because we must."

Sansa sniffled in an attempt to hold back any further emotion. "Yes, My Love, we will."

There was his brave queen! Stannis kissed the hand he held before standing again. The look he exchanged with Shireen let him know they were in agreement; she would remain by Sansa's side until he could return to her that evening. On his way out, he stopped by the nursery to let Steffon's nurse know she could take him to his mother now. Steffon greeted him with his usual enthusiastic run. Stannis held his son, "You be a very good boy for your Mother," he said before putting him down to depart for the Small Counsel.

"Keeeeeng!" he heard his son call after him as he left.


	10. This Heart of Stone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note – read this understanding I am no strategist, so you may find a sieve where that part of the story is concerned!

Davos

The strain of not knowing the fate of Lady Catelyn Stark, or the former Lady Stark, with absolute certainty and having to walk the thin line of allowing his lady to have hope was wearing on his king. Davos assumed he and Shireen were the only ones who could tell the difference in his current version of "dour." In a short time, the Queen had become adept and even surpassed him in her ability to read his expressions and movements, but not in this particular instance. For once, she was only seeing what she wanted to see. And what she wanted to see was that the raven they had received three fortnights ago of her mother's death and the even more startling tale of her being brought back to life as an unearthly version of her former self was of not true.

Ravens came and went between Lord Tully at Riverrun; the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, presently at Winterfell; and his good-son, Lord Clegane, at Dreadfort. Somehow, he thought of Clegane as his good-son, although the relationship was not real. Sandor Clegane was very indulgent where the Seaworth family's claim on his wife, Alys, was concerned. Perhaps it was because he had no family himself. Be that as it may, Davos was aware that his true affections lie with the Queen and not with Alys. Clegane was, however, showing himself considerate of his wife and her feelings. His reply in response to the raven sent seeking what additional information he could provide regarding the Brotherhood without Banners said that he was ready and waiting to assist in looking for her "as his king and queen desired," and would take time until then to see that his wife and Dreadfort would be safe if his absence was required. Davos had expected him to leave Alys without much thought and go off to be Sansa's hero regardless of whether he was asked to do so.

One person given little attention given current events was the true Lady Stark, Jayne, the widow of Lord Robb Stark. She remained at Riverrun at Lady Catelyn's request. Since Lord Stark died before she was able to conceive an heir, the current Lady Stark was of little consequence to be sure. Davos gave her a thought now and then, primarily because House Westerling was sworn to House Lannister. Davos trusted Lord Tyrion up to a point, but if anyone could find ways around his oath, it was Tyrion Lannister. Lord Tyrion had admitted the Freys had come to him with their plans for killing Lord Stark and all with him at the wedding of Edmure Tully. Did he still communicate with them? Was Lady Jayne Stark providing information on the movements of the Starks and Tullys that had made the ambush possible? There was more to consider about this whole affair than the current fate of Lady Catelyn Stark.

To resolve the question of the moment, Lord Edmure set out with men from Riverrun. Davos was in the Tower with his wife and baby daughter awaiting supper when the raven arrived to inform the King that he had found her, or more precisely, she had found him. He read the contents of the raven, not bothering to school his face for Marya's benefit – it never worked anyway.

"Is this confirmation that Lady Stark is dead?" Marya asked, laying Alysane in the cradle after having taken her from Davos so he could read the raven.

"Yes and no." Davos had told her of the claims that Lady Stark had been brought back to life, and like their Queen, she had dismissed them since she did not believe such things were possible.

Marya rolled her eyes at him, letting him know he should know better than to give her such a vague answer. Davos sighed as he began to ready himself to leave for Maegor's Holdfast. "Lord Tully relays a report from his brother, Lord Edmure, that Lady Stark has taken on a new name: Lady Stoneheart. It was given her by the men who found her and that she now leads. It seems she has an agenda of revenge and he found her with little interest in her remaining children or family."

"But you said 'yes' when I asked you if she was dead?"

Davos had no idea how to explain this to her. "She cannot talk and her skin has the blue pallor of one who is dead. It says that Edmure Tully describes Lady Stoneheart as one who resembles his sister, but he cannot regard the woman he met as his sister." He paused for a moment to see if the confused frown on his wife's face gave way. When it did not, he tried again. "Either it is true that she was dead and brought back to life is a form that is not entirely as she was or she was not quite dead and this is the result of what was done to her. Either way, it sounds like this woman is little like the woman we knew and that Queen Sansa has suffered a loss."

He watched patiently as Marya took all this in and assumed she categorized it with the things she had to accept, but did not understand. "I should go tell the King. He may already be at supper with the Queen. Do you believe we should get the nurse to watch Alysane and hat you should go with me in case she has need of you in her grief?"

"I would go if I truly thought I was needed," Marya said. "She will want the King. He may not be one we can easily see as a provider of sympathy and comfort, but he will be who she wants . . . if she accepts the news at all. However, it would not hurt for you to wait until after their supper. If King Stannis censures you on it, tell him I advised you that it would be best for the Queen and the babe she carries to have her meal first as she would be less likely to eat after hearing the news or having him called away from their table."

Approaching his wife and kissing her forehead, Davos marveled at her wisdom when it came to matters such as these. "I shall see about hurrying our dinner so that you can get to Maegor's and wait for them to complete theirs," she informed him, taking a moment to smile up at him.

With that, she disappeared and, when she returned, their two youngest sons and servants were with her. The servants were bearing soup as the first part of their supper. They had finished their soup before Devan arrived to join them. By silent agreement, they did not tell him the particulars of why supper was started earlier than usual other than to say that Davos had pressing matters to attend to. Davos ate, but tasted very little; his eyes appreciated the sight of the roasted pork and potatoes, but he found no flavor in them. It was all he could do to force himself to finish, knowing Marya would insist he eat all or most all of what was served to him.

Once he was outside the Queen's apartments where the King's family ate their supper, he waited until he was told they were finished and sent Ser Lambert in to request an audience with his king. Stannis joined him shortly thereafter.

"You have word from what quarter?" Stannis asked as he approached him, his hands clenched tightly at his sides.

"From Lord Tully at Rivverun, Your Grace," Davos said while giving an abbreviated version of a bow. His King often rolled his eyes at others when they took the time to bow fully, but still wanted to be shown the respect a bow afforded. This variation seemed to agree with him. "Lord Edmure has returned and did find his sister in the form described by young Lord Dayne. He also found changes in her demeanor."

Davos handed the raven to Stannis who seemed to read through it several times before handing it back to him. "As those she seeks revenge on are enemies of the Iron Throne as well, there is nothing to be done at this point. Do you agree?"

"Yes, Sire. As of yet, I see no impact to the realm or action required from the Iron Throne." Every word stuck in Davos' throat. What was of importance to his king and queen, were of importance the realm as far as he was concerned.

The King glanced at the door he had just come from and then back to Davos. "How is your daughter this day?" It was almost as if he was stalling to think through what he must do next.

"She is well, Your Grace, thank you for asking." It pleased him that Stannis took such concern for his new daughter, although he knew part of it was due to his own fears for the child his queen presently carried.

"Well, then, I will leave you to return to her and her mother." With that, Davos was dismissed. He dreaded what Stannis would face next and sent up a prayer to any of the gods who might truly exist whether they be old, new, red, or otherwise, that Queen Sansa would bear the news bravely for her husband's sake and the sake of her unborn child.


	11. As Tears Go Bye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes – According to my Googled research, medieval dancing was not done in couples, but in formations where all joined in. Some dances differentiated males and female formations in the dance, but it was not done in pairs or couples. The introduction of dancing as we see done in period pieces such as Pride and Prejudice came much later and would have been considered scandalous to many in medieval culture. While ASOIAF has couples dancing, this AU has dancing according to medieval history.

Stannis

When Stannis rejoined his wife and daughter in the chamber where they usually spent the rest of the evening after supper, Shireen and Sansa were discussing dancing, of all things. Normally, he wouldn't listen to such a conversation or be expected to. Sansa had developed a way of letting him know when he needed to come back to a conversation without making it too obvious that he wasn't paying attention beforehand. Now, he was giving them his full attention to see if Sansa was alerted by his being summoned by Ser Lambert after dinner. So far, she seemed to not have given it a second thought.

"The Braavosi merchant's daughter said that they are dancing as couples in formation rather than just dancing as a group," he heard Shireen remark. "I can't imagine how that is done."

Looking at his wife, Stannis found it amusing the way her forehead screwed up in thought as if contemplating a very complex problem. "I have to assume the formations are designed around couples moving together within the form. Did she say whether only betrothed or married couples danced this way? Surely a maid does not dance with a man or boy she is not at least betrothed to."

Before Shireen could answer, Stannis found himself commenting, "What difference does it make? In our dances, males and females interact by the joining of hands or in other ways. I hardly see how it is different if two people are merely paired up to do so?"

Once the words were out of his mouth, Stannis realized he had quite possibly made a grave mistake. Both Sansa's and Shireen's eyes were wide with astonishment, not having expected him to be paying attention. "Influences from other cultures are of importance to the realm," he groused with a shrug, feeling his scowl increase. It was a poor attempt at a recovery, but it seemed to be effective.

"You are quite right," Sansa began diplomatically, smiling at him as if to try to appease him, "both in the importance of outside influences and that couples in formation are not all that different in reality. What is different is the possibility of perception. In our dances, those who wish to dance join in and there is no possibility of someone becoming jealous or assuming an alliance because of whom one is partnered with."

"From what I was told, there is also a difference in how couples touch one another," Shireen added, her voice strangely excited. "A man may put his hand on a lady's waist or they may hold hands and only the two of them for a longer duration than what happens in our dances ."

While Stannis had to admit he had started listened to this conversation to judge Sansa's reaction to his leaving, he was finding that his earlier statement was valid and Sansa's assessment of it was correct. As ridiculous as it sounded in his mind, wars could be fought over something as simple as a lady from a noble family dancing with the wrong man from the wrong family, or even worse, one not of a noble family. In his mind, he had an image of Sansa standing before the court of King's Landing with Sandor Clegane leading her with his hand on her waist and cringed. Were such a thing to happen, he would undoubtedly draw Lightbringer and blood would be spilled. It would sound silly to bring up such a matter to the Small Council, but it was worth mentioning to Davos. On the surface, a law banning a certain type of dancing sounded petty, but when you thought about it in more detail, it might be a prudent thing to do.

He was pulled out of this thoughts by Sansa's reply. "It does sound far too intimate for a couple who are not attached in some way."

"Yet, we in noble families marry perfect strangers and are expected to immediately do the most intimate thing imaginable," Shireen argued, her dark blue eyes showing an unusual agitation.

Stannis and Sansa both looked at each other before returning their gaze back to Shireen. "That is undoubtedly true," Sansa tried to soothe her with more diplomacy while also trying to make a point. "But it is not for all to see."

"Is it not? Is it not the usual custom, granted not my father's, to allow men to undress a maid to present her to her husband on their wedding night? How can the Braavosi dance be worse than being pawed by drunken men after a wedding feast?"

Stannis tried to remember if he'd ever seen his daughter argue with such passion; he was used to her using logic. He was also surprised that his rather reticent and shy daughter approved of such a form of dance and wondered if she were picturing herself dancing in such a manner with anyone in particular. That was something to think about another day. At the moment, he needed to get through this evening until he and his queen were alone where he would have to try to explain the grim news of her mother being alive, yet not as she was. Getting through this evening meant conversing with his ladies as if all was well.

"You will not be pawed by those in attendance at your wedding and King's Landing is not Braavos," Stannis stated firmly, knowing is comments were really not relevant to her argument, but also knowing his harsh tone would signal his desire for this particular conversation to end. He glanced at the candle and knew there was another hour before Shireen would retire. Needing to move the conversation into safer waters and realizing Shireen would be the most difficult to lead, he went for her weakness. "Davos tells me Alysane is well, although I have not seen her in a fortnight. Has she grown much in that time?"

It worked. Shireen brightened and was perfectly willing to leave talk of new dancing styles in favor of a discussion on the latest baby in their midst. "Oh Father, she is still so tiny, but growing by the day. She is so sweet natured . . ."

The remaining hour passed quickly and required him to say little as Sansa and Shireen waxed on and on about the children in Maegor's Holdfast and the Tower of the Hand. All too soon, the nightly rituals were over and he stood before the door to her bedchamber, bracing himself for that which he could put off no longer.

Sansa sat on the edge of the bed waiting for him, her luxurious red hair down along her back and shoulders and, as always, showing up brilliantly in the firelight against the white of her linen nightgown. It seemed an offense to spoil such beauty with news of tragedy and he wondered if he could delay it somehow, but that option was taken away from him as he sat beside her. "Now you may tell me what news the latest raven regarding my mother brings," she said quietly, reaching for his hand and interlocking her fingers in his. She didn't face him but looked downward toward their hands.

"Your Uncle Edmure found her," he started, his voice barely above a whisper to take the harshness out. "Whether she actually died and was brought back to life or whether her current state is the result of the condition she was left in is hard to say. What your uncle reports is that he met with a woman who physically resembled your mother, but who was altered in ways hard to fathom."

She still did not face him. "In what ways?"

Stannis squeezed her hand lightly as if trying to give some comfort in the face of such bizarre tidings. "She cannot speak, her skin has taken an extremely pale pallor, and he says what little hair she has is white. The wounds she sustained do not show any signs of healing. Yet, he is certain she was formerly his sister. Her appearance was not what startled him the most from this account. Lady Stark is now leading the Brotherhood without Banners and is bent on revenge against the remaining Freys and Boltons. When asked whether she intended to continue her journey to Winterfell to reunite with your younger brother or to return to Riverrun, she communicated, he did not say how, that she would not be doing so. Your uncle reports her first priority is that of vengeance and that they have given her the name Lady Stoneheart."

He watched her bowed head for tears, but they did not come. Sansa merely seemed to be taking in what he had told her. After what seemed like an eternity, she raised her head and looked at him. "What you are saying is that this . . . Lady Stoneheart . . . does not show an interest in her family?"

"Not for the present. That may change or merely be your uncle's interpretation." It was time to tell her more he had been hiding from her. "Your sister also spent time with this Brotherhood and their leader after she fled from King's Landing. Your half-brother has relayed that Arya believes the story of her mother's resurrection, but also added that Dondarrion told her each time he was resurrected, his emotions were changed or I believe the word he used in the raven was that they were 'numbed'."

"I see," she replied biting her lip. "So I have lost my mother, yet there is no body to bury in the crypt at Winterfell and there is a . . . a creature resembling my mother who still walks and has my mother's memories, but only has feelings of vengeance for her older son and none of her duty to her younger son." Sansa let go of his hand and placed both of them on her increased belly. "How does a mother stop being a mother to her children?"

Stannis realized he was grinding his teeth and that every muscle in his body was tense. She was not crying. He hated to see her cry, but at the moment, it seemed worse that she was not shedding tears. Not knowing what else to do, he answered the question, even though he knew it was rhetorical. "If she is a loving mother, she only stops in death and that is what looks to have happened."

"Was Winterfell been informed of what my uncle learned?"

"Yes."

Sansa nodded as if that was something that needed acceptance. "Arya must remain with Rickon for now. I will write to her to ensure she knows her duty. It is not the business of the Iron Throne, but I would appreciate help in finding a good steward and maester to send to Winterfell, one who can educate Rickon properly to take over as Lord Stark."

This matter-of-fact demeanor of assessing what needed to be done was a way of dealing with her grief . . . he knew it but found it unsettling. It was as if she, too, had developed a stone heart. "After you have had time to grieve the loss of your mother, we will see to what is needed for Winterfell and your family."

Sansa moved away from him to crawl into bed and underneath the bedclothes. Stannis had not expected to bed her this night due to her grief, although he strangely felt the need of such comfort. As it was, he was grateful when she settled her head on his chest after he lay beside her and put her arm across his waist. He lay awake for hours holding her knowing she was also awake. He waited for the tears he thought would come and when they did not, he wondered if she was waiting to grieve alone or if she merely had no more tears left to shed.


	12. Within and Without

Marya

Marya did not believe the word "helpless" applied to her in any form or fashion. She would always seek to find a remedy to whatever came their way, and much had come their way – both good and bad. No matter what her sorrows or joys, she always had someone she had to care for and who needed her to be strong, and so, she was strong and endured. Strength for her had been knowing that Davos had missed her on some of his long voyages and sought to find her in the arms of other women, and not saying a word when he returned. It had been hearing the taunts of ladies, including Selyse Baratheon, regarding the lowness of her birth and calling her manner common, and ignoring them while trying to learn to find some middle ground in the life she had been led into. It also had been in learning how to go on after being told she had lost four sons all in one day in a battle for the Iron Throne and realizing her husband would forevermore be in danger from those wanting to sit on that throne or control it.

She had admired what she felt was a similar strength in her young queen. Marya knew Sansa had seen her father beheaded before her eyes, been repeatedly beaten and under threat of death, lost siblings, been forced to marry an older and difficult man, required to take on the mantle of queen, pressured into providing an heir, feared the loss of a husband, and Marya even suspected had been forced to turn aside the love of a man she had loved in return. It had been a great deal for one so young to bear and yet, she had managed. Not only had Sansa Baratheon managed, she came out successful in ways few would have believed possible. Davos had explained to her that it would put Sansa in danger if the nobles of the realm truly knew how much their king cared for his wife. Any vulnerability was there to be exploited. But to those within the Red Keep, it was obvious that she had captured the heart of a man reputed not to own one. Sansa had gained the affections of the daughter of her husband's first wife, bore a son and heir within a year of being queen, and had gained the respect and love of the small folk. The women of the court, while they envied her and did not appreciate the way she showed them up, still respected her and tried to emulate her. They followed her when she took on charitable pursuits and when she changed her appearance. Lastly and with few exceptions, the noblemen of the court were dazzled by her and not in the way they had been the previous queen. Queen Sansa did not flirt with them or seek to beguile them. She simply made them wish they had such a wife by the example she set. To Marya, Sansa represented what it should mean when one is said to be "well bred."

The loss of the woman who bore such a daughter and saw to her training would be great indeed. Marya had never quite gotten used to the way noble mothers seemed to hand much of the raising of their children to others. Much of Sansa's education came from a woman she referred to as Septa Mordane. However, when she listened to the stories the Queen told of her childhood, it was obvious that her lady mother paid more attention to her than her other children. Marya felt it was probably because she considered her eldest daughter an extension of herself. She had also wondered if Lady Stark's requirement that Sansa marry Stannis Baratheon as a condition of fealty hadn't been based on the notion that if she could not have been a queen, her daughter would be. Surely Marya could not see herself offering a daughter to someone such as King Stannis, despite the fact that it had turned into a heart match. And especially not after what had happened to that daughter at the hands of another meant to wear the crown.

While Lady Stark had become something now known as Lady Stoneheart, Sansa had also become someone foreign to those who loved her since she had been told of her uncle's report. She was polite, gentle, and performed her duties, but there was no joy in her. She did not pick up her son just to hold him as she had often done before. Steffon would go to her and she would take him into her arms and cradle him as best she could with her swollen belly, but she did not play with him or talk to him. When Marya and Shireen joined the Queen for needlework or whatever event was planned for their time together, Sansa was gracious and answered their questions, but it wasn't the same. There was no apologetic gossip or frivolous discussions. Sansa Baratheon smiled, but it was wan and the sound of her laughter seemed the greatest loss of all.

Now, King Stannis Baratheon stood in Marya's solar in the Tower of the Hand at midday and asked for her help. He was a man that feared nothing, and yet, he stood before her with fear in his dark blue eyes. In all the years Davos had been devoted to Stannis, as lord and king, it had never been just the two of them in a room. She couldn't even remember a situation where they held a private conversation. He was finding this difficult and she could see that he second-guessing his decision to be here. Were this Davos or one of her boys, she would be gently coaxing them into telling her whatever it was that they had approached her with and found trying to speak of, but this was the King.

"You have seen the change in the Queen since we received news of Lady Stark being . . . as she now is?" he finally spat out while leaning against the wall with his arms folded in front of him, scowl firmly in place.

"I have, Your Grace," she affirmed.

The King unfolded his arms and ran his hand across the top of his head in an exasperated manner, sighing as he did so. "My Lady, I have great respect for your advice when it comes to . . . to properly caring for those we . . . we must. I need your help. I cannot . . . I . . ." He began to pace. "Do you remember when Steffon, my son Steffon, was born? When I walked into that room, the girl holding her son was tired and disheveled, but all smiles and the feeling she had for our son radiated from her. I want this next child to come into the world and be held the same way. I want Steffon to be held that way again by his mother."

Marya knew each word was being choked out of him and that he would rather be doing battle with a Targaryen dragon than standing in her solar talking to her thus, yet great love had brought him here – love and desperation.

"Sire, I cannot say to you that I know some trick or scheme that will take away what plagues the Queen and has robbed her of her spirit. I can tell you what I think troubles her and I can tell you what I believe may help, but I cannot guarantee I have the right of it."

It was obvious this was not what he wanted to hear, but he held himself in check. "Then I would ask you to relay your thoughts to me as I am sure that, if you knew of something you could have already done or said, it would have happened by now."

That was true. She was enough of a meddler that she had already tried to interfere with what she had hoped would draw Sansa back to them as she had been. It had not worked. Marya saw Shireen do the same. They had tried gossip, confiding in her, keeping her occupied, overworking her, underworking her . . . all to no avail.

"When I see someone in the pain Her Grace is in, or more precisely, masking the pain she is in, I look to my own experience. It is all I have, which is why it may not be correct. The one thing I have never quite gotten over since my sons died is that life goes on without them. Queen Sansa has endured loss and learned to go on, but she is now a wife and a mother, and what she just learned is that children can go on without their mother."

"And that revelation is enough to cause her to withdraw as she has?" he asked incredulously. "Of course we must all go on. What else are we to do?"

Marya knew what she had to say would be difficult for him to absorb. She tried again. "Your Grace, you think like a man and a king, and all the realm is grateful. Your queen is grateful for that. She has often needed to believe in your strength. But she has also had to feel she has an important role to play and that her struggles are not in vain. I believe she is overwhelmed by the idea that a wildling had been raising her brother, her sister managed in the company of strangers, and that she would have liked the comfort of her mother, but has managed without her for some time now. Even the Princess is a reminder that mothers are not . . . are not irreplaceable."

"Some mothers are irreplaceable, My Lady," the King commented and Marya knew he was thinking of his own. "Sansa would be."

"What I could not tell her and have her believe at the moment is that she does not want to be irreplaceable to her children. What she wants is to not be forgettable or regrettable. That said, Queen Sansa is also a wife and that is another area where it rankles to believe she could possible be replaced."

King Stannis stared her down for several seconds before speaking. "She knows I would not remarry were I to lose her." What Marya would not say to him is that Sansa had evidence that someone could love her, want her, and marry another. Sandor Clegane chose to go on without her rather than pine for her. Her own father, whom she often remarked had been much like her husband, had found another when away from his wife at war.

Marya tried hard not to roll her eyes. "Yes, Your Grace. We all know that you would fight the Small Council if they were to suggest such a thing now that you have a male heir. Still, you would replace her . . . the times you would normally be with her, you would throw yourself into your work, if not create work. What she does not see . . . I believe . . . is that this would be because you . . . " Marya searched for a word to use that would not embarrass him, but would make the point and found none. "Because you love her, Sire, and that love will never leave you despite what you do to go on. Nor is she capable right now of seeing that the mother she knew does live on . . . in her, and as such, has not died. I am not the one to tell her these things and be believed. Neither can I assure you that this is what she needs to hear. It is only what I believe she needs to know and that you are the only one I believe can reassure her."

If he was offended, he did not show it. King Stannis merely looked away from her and seemed to contemplate what she had said. Finally, he took a deep breath. "I understand. Thank you, Lady Seaworth." She stood and curtsied as he showed signs of being ready to depart. The King was at the door when he turned back to her. "Might I trouble you to host my daughter for supper tonight?"

"Princess Shireen is always welcome, Your Grace."

He nodded and left. Marya believed in some higher power above but was confused by all the talk of different gods. Still, she was prone to praying, even if she was never specific to whom she prayed to. Now, she bowed her head and said a prayer that the husband in Stannis Baratheon would know what to say to his wife and bring her back to them all.


	13. Tumbling Down

Stannis

Stannis had the utmost respect for Lady Seaworth's opinion when it came to those she cared for. Were that not so, he would not have embarrassed himself by consulting her on the oddness of Sansa's behavior for the past fortnight or however long it had been since it had been confirmed that Lady Stark had become something now called Lady Stoneheart. His hope had been that, in time, Sansa would snap out of it and he tried to be patient, although not something he was known for.

What he knew before he left for the Tower on his mission to consult with Lady Seaworth was that his queen had erected a barrier around the emotions that made her Sansa. It was as if she was some lesser form of Sansa. You could not call her "Queen Stoneheart" for her actions were all polite and considerate. They were equally unaffected. What he needed from Lady Seaworth was the reason. Stannis had hoped that knowledge would help him decide what to do. It was not entirely so. Lady Seaworth had given him her supposition of the reason for the change in Sansa and advised him to use soft words and ensure her of his need of her. Stannis could not say he  _needed_  her. If he lost her, he would go on just as Lady Seaworth had implied – through work and applying himself to his duty. What was true was that he would have lost something he had no idea how to define, except that he did not want to lose it. He knew this because he felt that loss now in a way he hadn't in the times they were estranged from each other through some misunderstanding or his own stubbornness.

Something had to be done to bring the wall Sansa had erected down, and he felt it had to be something to force her to have an emotional response of some sort. Not just an emotional response – an outburst. The irony that he was seeking such a response was not lost on him. Even now, he could not imagine that was what was required to return her to the wife he cared so strongly for. Stannis knew he was not capable of the declaration Lady Seaworth spoke of to such a degree that it would provoke the response he felt necessary to reach her. The one thing he did know he was capable of was making her, or anyone for that matter, angry. It would take a great deal to do so . . . it would take lying to her, albeit something he could take back when he had won this battle. For that is how he looked at the work he planned to do this evening. He was a warrior going into battle – a battle to return his wife to her children and to him.

When he arrived into their private dining chamber that evening, Sansa looked at him with blank blue eyes. "Good evening, Your Grace. Shireen has not yet arrived. Should I send for her?"

"There is no need," Stannis replied, once again holding back a cringe after hearing her refer to him formally when only the two of them were present. "Shireen is having dinner with the Seaworth family. They are having a celebration."

Stannis watched Sansa closely and he saw a flicker in her eyes, quickly hidden, at hearing of an event at the Tower to which she was not invited. Excellent – she was still there! He was aware he had consciously lied to her for the first time in their marriage. Indeed, this would be the least of his lies he would tell her this night as a family dinner at the Seaworth's could be said to always be a celebration.

"What is being celebrated?"

Stannis was pleased with her curiosity, despite it being masked in a voice of indifference. "I did not ask Davos when he issued the invitation. It was, however, opportune as I have a wish to discuss a matter concerning Shireen and it would be best to do so privately after supper."

"Of course," Sansa said in bland civility. In that moment, Stannis realized what grated him the most, besides it just not being her, was that this must be how she spoke to Joffrey Lannisters.

The rest of supper passed in silence; Stannis would never have thought it possible he would find quiet not to his liking. Afterward, they removed to another chamber where Sansa seated herself on the settee and picked up a piece of needlework it had become her recent habit to placed there in advance to provide an excuse to not initiate conversation. Instead of sitting next to her, as he would if Shireen were present, he sat in the single chair across from the settee. Stannis was determined to make her ask him what he wanted to discuss with her. His patience paid off. It took quite a while for her bring it up, but she looked up from her needlework and eventually asked him what he had wished to speak to her about.

"We have received an interesting offer for Shireen," he replied.

With her focus still on the needlework, Sansa prompted him for more. "Is it an offer you are inclined to consider?"

"When I first learned of it, my initial reaction was to dismiss it out of hand. Upon reflection and when I compare the offer to our own marriage, I am inclined to accept it." He was determined to make her participate by asking questions.

"Who has offered for her?"

It took all Stannis had to say the name he was about to say as if he weren't uttering a malicious swear. "Victarion Greyjoy."

At least it made Sansa put the needlework down and look at him. There still was nothing other than a blank expression, however. "You jest poorly," she remarked and it took a great deal of restraint to maintain his normal scowl as he heard the edge of a challenge. This was not victory, but it was a beginning.

"I do not jest, Sansa. An alliance with the Ironborn would have many advantages. It would contain the Lannisters and Tyrells, both of whom are undoubtedly working to gain back their former strength. Victarion wants assistance in overthrowing his brother to be king and I am inclined to allow him to retain the title as it gives Shireen the title of queen. He would be a client king, subject to the Iron Throne."

Stannis was used to being stared at, including by her, but he had to admit she was boring a hole through him at the moment as her eyes began to come alive. "This has to be a jest. You would not sacrifice your daughter to a man who killed his last wife by beating her for something that was not her fault, but his brother's."

He knew he had to be careful here. "That is unfortunate, but if Euron is killed, then it is not likely to happen. Victarion knows I would bring the largest army I could muster and destroy every inch of ground of the Iron Islands were he to mistreat her. That should be sufficient to ensure her safety."

Now, she believed he was in earnest. Her eyes were aflame and her nostrils flared in indignation. While pleased that his ruse seemed to be working, there was a niggling indignation in his mind that she could accept it as true. At least she had initially thought him incapable of such. "You talk of Shireen's safety. What of her feelings?"

Despite the slight edge to her voice and the fire beginning to show in her eyes, she was still too calm for the outburst he wanted to provoke. "Were your feelings considered when you were betrothed to me? I would assume not – only your safety and I feel I can assure that for her."

"My safety was assured because you were a man who could be trusted. Surely you do not compare yourself to Victarion Greyjoy! Even after being raised by my father to be man of honor and given the same advantages as his sons, Theon proved he could not be trusted and there was no honor in him. It is so of all Greyjoys."

Stannis was not enjoying this mummer's farce he had started, but he had to play it out. "You cannot tie all family together. Robert, Renly, and I were vastly different and we were brothers. You, yourself, have spoken often of the differences between you and your sister."

Sansa's agitation began to increase. During her last response, she discarded her needlework and folded her hands tightly in her lap. "Our family differences are not of importance. What is important is what sort of husband such a man, if you could call a Greyjoy a man, would be to Shireen. If you have any love for your daughter, you will not consider this. No alliance is worth such a sacrifice!"

"The Small Council thinks it is a sound alliance."

"The Small Council be damned!" Sansa shouted passionately. This was the tone he was looking for. "You are their king and her father!" With this, she stood and walked to stand over him. Her hands were tightly balled into fists by her side and he kept a wary eye out for one that might head toward his face. "While I am not her mother by birth," she contended vehemently, "I have stood in as such for several years now and she is as dear to me as if I had borne her. I will fight you on this, Stannis. You cannot convince me Davos is in favor of this and I am not without resources of my own!"

This was almost exactly what he wanted, right down to using his name as she railed at him. Her threat of bringing her resources against him, which he assumed meant Sandor Clegane, riled him. It took a bit to rein it in as he stood and returned her stare as he looked down at her. "You say Shireen is dear to you and imply our son is dear to you as well, do you not?"

"Of course," she spat back at him angrily. "You know they are."

"They are dear to you, yet you would grieve them as you have of late. You speak of Shireen's feelings, yet you give her a mother and then, when your mother is taken away from you, you take another away from her." Stannis barely knew if what he was saying made sense, but he could see in her eyes that she was feeling some form of contrition so he continued. "Even Steffon senses the change in you. Have you not noticed how he has taking to avoiding you in the last sennight?"

Stannis hoped he had said sufficient to break through to her; nevertheless, he prepared for more in case it was needed as he matched her stare. Finally, she breathed in and asked, "So you are not going to agree to a betrothal between Shireen and Victarion Greyjoy?"

"The offer is not real; it was a ruse. I would not normally lie to you, but I had to think of something to pull you out of this . . . this withdrawal from us. If you want to be angry with me, then so be it. But you must find yourself again for the sake of our children."

Sansa continued to stare up at him and he thought she was attempting to regain the icy composure he had tried to break through. "Sansa, don't make them go through the pain of having a mother still living, yet altered from the loving mother she was. Catelyn has an excuse – this was done to her. You are doing this to yourself. You are doing this to all of us."

Stannis realized his heart was pounding as if he had just fought through ten men with his sword. "No one denies your need to grieve for your lady mother. Cry for days if it is what you need. I will . . . I will hold you or I will leave you alone to do so. It will be as you want, only do not return to being this soulless creature."

It began to unnerve him the way she persisted in staring at him until her bottom lip began to quiver and tears welled in her eyes. Stannis could not be certain she would forgive him, but he was convinced that once she cried away her angst, she would be Sansa again. As her lip began to tremble more, she bit it to gain control and he waited. Stannis waited and watched as her body began to tremble as well, and then . . . Sansa began laughing. There were tears in her eyes and she perched her hands on his shoulders while, to his utter astonishment, her body shook in peals of laughter. "Oh, my poor Stannis; what I put you through!"

"This is not . . . not what you are meant to be doing," Stannis muttered helplessly, watching her in alarm. "You are supposed to be . . . sobbing."

Her laughter died down and Sansa clasped her hands around his neck, getting as close to him as she could given her increased stomach. "You are correct; I need to cry. You are correct about everything. At first, I made myself numb as there were things that needed to be taken care of. But before the tears had a chance to come, I found myself angry. I was angry that we were supposed to find ways to go on without her. It was easy to stay numb and angry . . . I am so very sorry, My Love."

They walked hand in hand into their bedchamber. Master Dion had informed him several days ago that he should refrain from bedding her until after the babe was born. When he informed Sansa of this, she smiled at him seductively and led him to their bed. "I am quite sure he meant we could not be together in only one very particular way."

Later, Stannis ran his hands through the luxurious thickness of her auburn hair and marveled at her imagination. "Please, Sansa," he implored, "As much as I admit to appreciating the aftermath of our having a disagreement, I beg you never to reduce me to having to come up with such a ruse or make so many speeches ever again."


	14. Another Who's Black of Hair

Davos

Ser Rolland interrupted the Small Council meeting during a report the King requested from the Maester Pylos on the "efficacy" (Stannis enjoyed using words that brought furrowed Ser Axell's brow in confusion) of the glass gardens in providing stores being rationed for winter. When Storm came to the entryway, the King motioned for him to enter. Everyone knew when he leaned to whisper to Stannis what the news was about. Their Queen was in labor.

The King listened with his usual scowl and then nodded as a sign to Ser Rolland to wait for him. "I am away to Maegor's Holdfast to await the arrival of the new prince or princess," Stannis announced to those assembled.

"I look forward to celebrating the news of my latest grandniece or grandnephew," Ser Lomas returned enthusiastically. "I have a bottle of Dornish Red for the occasion and will bring it to the Map Room for those who would join me."

"What possibly could be celebrated about a princess?" Ser Axell replied in a huff and then cleared his throat when Stannis stared daggers into him as he stood and the rest of them stood in response. Despite having reversed his decision on banishing Ser Axell for previous comments regarding Queen Sansa, Stannis had made it well known that it was at the Queen's behest and against his better judgment. Davos was surprised that reversal included keeping him on the Small Council as Master of Whispers and suspected Sansa had much to do with that, as well.

The room waited quietly while the King made his former good-uncle as uncomfortable as possible and then turned his attention to Davos. "I trust you to resolve any issues that do not need my attention and bring those that do to the Map Room where I will reside after I visit the Queen."

Once the King had departed, Davos asked Maester Pylos to continue his report. The meeting continued for another hour before Davos dismissed them. He first sent word to the Training Yard to ensure Devan knew to look to his younger brothers and that they might be alone for supper, and then he made his way to join Stannis in the Map Room. To his surprise, he found Marya waiting just outside in the hallway.

"I thought I might find you here. I asked to be sent for when the King leaves Sansa," Marya reported, kissing his cheek when he approached her. "You missed an interesting commotion. Sansa told none of us her labor had started and was managing to endure it without a grimace or even the most minimal groan. Poor thing knew the King would be sent for immediately if she whimpered or broke her routine." Marya was animated in the telling of her story and Davos listened indulgently as they entered the Map Room and sat down, "So, when the King arrived, Maester Dion told him that the Queen had been in labor for hours and was very tired, and needed to rest. Well, you know him best and you can imagine how he took that news. I looked around hoping you would come running any second to save the poor maester."

Davos wanted to laugh but withheld his response while he ensured that Stannis did not injury Dion in any way. "No," Marya assured him with a grin. "However, the maester's hearing may be a little faulty for a few days. I felt sorry for him for it was Sansa who tried to withhold her pains from him to begin with."

"Maester Dion's mistake was not in telling the King she had been in labor for hours, but that he could not go to her. I assume he brooked no more argument?" Davos asked in amusement.

Marya laughed and Davos marveled at the knowledge that such a little thing as the sound of her laughter could still please him so. "Sansa, who could hear him, sent Shireen out to ask for him before the King got as far as throttling or beheading the poor man. He's been with her since. I left Maester Dion and Shireen waiting for her and asking to be sent for when he left."

Looking around to ensure no one was close enough to hear him, Davos still lowered his voice. "The first time you intimated that he had come to love her, I thought it a fanciful wish on your part. As one who looks on him as a brother, I am genuinely thankful he not only feels so strongly for her but that it is returned. As his Hand, I fear the vulnerability it brings my King."

Marya gave him an indulgent look he recognized as one that usually preceded telling him how and why he was incorrect. "King Stannis was most vulnerable when he, and those around him, felt he had no vulnerabilities. I once told the Queen if anyone was invincible, it was the King. Perhaps you cannot be truly invincible if you have a vulnerability, yet in most cases it would be sufficient to have far fewer vulnerabilities than your opponents, would it not?"

He considered arguing that it only took one exploiting one vulnerability to cause great harm and while he told himself he wouldn't because this wasn't the time for it, Davos considered it was more likely he avoided it because she probably had a sufficient argument in rebuttal. He also did not want to have Stannis walk in on a conversation that was so obviously about him.

"So, my very wise wife, do you believe our Queen will deliver the realm a prince or a princess?"

His change in subject was greeted with a knowing smirk, but Marya went along with it. "I was convinced Steffon and Stany were both going to be daughters and that Alysane would be another son."

"Exactly," he teased her, "If you said it would be a princess, I would know another prince was about to be born."

Marya started to retort with something Davos was certain would have put him in his place when their king walked in. Both stood to greet him. "How is our Queen, Sire?" Davos asked while Marya quickly curtsied and laid a hand on Davos' arm as she made her way to the door.

"Bearing her pain well," the King remarked, strain evident in his eyes as he acknowledged Marya's curtsey with a nod. "I am sure she will be glad to have you with her, My Lady." Davos understood all too well the fear a husband felt at this time.

Marya left them and once the King was seated, Davos immediately began to distract him with an agenda of minor items he had been saving for this occasion. Within the hour, they were joined by the King's uncle, Ser Lomas, and his cousin, Ser Andrew Estermont. Davos was grateful for their presence in helping pull Stannis' mind from the Queen, although it was obvious they were not making a good job of it. The King did answer them appropriately and intelligently, but his eyes barely left the door.

When Prince Steffon was being born, Princess Shireen had come back and forth between the Queen's bedchamber and the Map Room with reports. This time, the reports were not as often and were delivered by the Queen's primary guard, Ser Aedan. The first time, he informed them that the Princess had sent him at the Queen's request and, just as before, the message was merely to tell Stannis that Sansa was sending word that all was well. Davos and Lomas would exchange a look each time, a sort of private acknowledgment of appreciation at how well Queen Sansa knew her husband. She might not be able to make the birth come any faster, but she knew the next best thing was to ensure he was kept informed.

It was the appearance of Princess Shireen, looking serene, but pleased, that caused everyone in the Map Room to breathe a sigh of relief. Several others among the Council had joined them, including, Ser Axell Florent. "Your Grace," she addressed her father, "It is time for you to come meet my sister."

Stannis greeted the news with a scowling nod to his daughter and all stood as he did. He briefly allowed the congratulations from those in the room before motioning for Davos to join him in his departure. Davos was amused at how fast his King made his way to the Queen's apartments. Doors were opened for them at every turn until they were both in her bedchamber. Davos had lived this scene before, but it didn't make it any less precious to observe. Queen Sansa held a swaddled child in her arms and smiled at her husband as he approached. "You said you wished for another daughter."

"I said I would like this one to have your hair. Does she?" Stannis asked, peering toward the babe.

Sansa grinned, "It seems you cannot be born a Baratheon without being black of hair. It is as it should be."

The King started to reply but seemed to think better of it. He sat on the edge of the bed and peered closer at the new princess in her mother's arms.

Marya joined Davos at the foot of the bed as they observed the family of four. "Have you decided on a name for the Princess?" Davos inquired.

"Shireen reserved the name Careen for a future sister," Sansa informed them in a voice that was happy but betrayed her exhaustion.

Shireen moved to sit next to Sansa on the side of the bed opposite where her father sat. "If I am still allowed to select her name, I believe my sister should be named Catelyn. As you say, Father, she does not have the Tully's hair, but I do believe she will have the Tully blue eyes of her mother and grandmother."

Everyone's eyes left the newly born babe to focus on Shireen. Stannis beheld his oldest daughter with his proudest scowl and Sansa with a gratitude that made her eyes water. "Thank you, Shireen," the Queen whispered hoarsely and received a smile in return.

"Now if everyone will allow, I would like the Queen to rest," Stannis ordered. "I will stay with her to see that she does so." He gave both Davos and Marya a scowl-less look that conveyed his appreciation for their roles in this day but addressed Maester Dion with words to that affect as they were all dismissed and Davos closed the door behind him.

Marya and Davos walked Shireen to her apartments; Davos listened while the two ladies recounted some of the events of the birth that he tried purposely not to hear. Both were treated to a hug from the girl before she closed the door behind her.

"Shireen so wants to be a mother," Marya remarked once it was just the two of them making their way back to the Tower.

"But let us hope she will first marry before that happens," Davos said as a matter of conversation, not because he thought it would be otherwise.

"I had hoped she would form an attachment to Devan," Marya returned with a sigh. "But she retreats from both Devan and Edric more and more. "

Davos hated to disillusion his wife. "It will not be Devan, nor will it be Edric. The King would agree to either if he felt it was her wish, but he would be talked out of it by the rest of the Council. She will be used to either create a new alliance or firm up a shaky one."

"I know," Marya replied sadly. "Promise me one thing, Davos. Promise me Alysane will be able to marry for love . . . as we did."

Davos laughed heartily. "My Sweetling, our daughter had best learn to wield a sword as that is what it would take to keep her father and brothers from gutting any knight, lord, butcher, or baker she might wish to marry."


	15. While the Trees Listen

Sansa

Despite the cold, Sansa was determined to make a concerted effort to walk in the early afternoon during the only time both Steffon and Catelyn were with their nurses for naps. Little Steffon had recently begun fighting the notion of taking a nap and preferred to play with whatever toys were at hand. This had distressed her, until the triumvirate of Marya, Maester Dion, and the nurse had told her this was normal and showed him as bright and energetic.

The primary purpose behind taking the time to walk in the Godswood was to aid her figure in returning to what it was prior to increasing with Catelyn. Inviting Shireen along afforded them time together, just the two of them, albeit Ser Aedan was never far behind. Sansa did take the opportunity to stop and say a brief prayer when they came upon the giant oak heart tree; her step-daughter patiently waiting but never participating while she did so.

"I am going to ask you something rather personal," Shireen began just after Sansa stood after her prayers during their third walk, "I will not be offended if you tell me that it is too personal to answer."

"You may ask me anything you like," Sansa replied. "I will answer anything for which I am able or not sworn to keep silent." There was little information that fell under the latter category, but she seriously doubted Shireen would ask something that was a matter of the realm.

The hint of a blush was barely visible on Shireen's cheeks framed by the woolen scarf she wore over her head and wrapped around her neck. "My father is so different with his children than he was when I was a child. I admit to being somewhat envious that my brother and sister will know this version of their father and have no memory of his cold silences. I realize he is different . . . warmer . . . with me as well. It did not start with my arrival at King's Landing, albeit perhaps in small measure. I can trace the significant changes in him with your marriage. How . . . do you know how you managed to change him?"

Sansa could not say she was completely astonished by the question, although somewhat taken aback by it. She had once been alarmed by what she did not quantify as a lack of warmth as much as a general awkwardness between father and daughter when Shireen first arrived at King's Landing. At the time, she compared their relationship to the one she remembered with her lord father. Like Stannis, he was not the most demonstrative of men and extremely guarded, but Eddard Stark had embraced his daughters. While there had been no great displays of affection, Sansa had never doubted his regard for any of his children, including Jon Snow. Now, she found she wanted to argue that Stannis showed more attention to his children, at least his daughters, than she remembered of her lord father. Obviously, she had no memory of his holding her as a baby. She decided did not remember his paying as much attention to what she had to say as Stannis did Shireen; however, she also remembered that she had not been as deserving of that amount of respect as Shireen was at the same age when her lord father was executed. Neither did she remember her father hoisting her younger brothers on his shoulders letting them pretended he was their horse. That image brought a smile and reminded her that Shireen was waiting for a response.

"Before I answer," Sansa began, for the reason was important to her, "May I ask why you wish to know? Is it curiosity or do you have a specific reason for asking?" If Shireen were seeking some specific type of information other than satisfying curiosity, Sansa wanted to steer the answer in that direction, if she could.

Shireen was silent for a time before answer. "Pardon me. I needed to reflect on how to convey the real purpose of my asking for it is more than curiosity. I used to believe that some people were born capable of showing affection and others were not. For example, the Seaworths embrace each other with great ease. Uncle Robert was demonstrative to those he was fond of, and the same could be said for Uncle Renly to a lesser degree. However, from my observance as a child, neither of my parents seemed to be capable of being demonstrative to anyone. Neither did I seem capable until the first time Lady Seaworth hugged me to her." Shireen's cheeks grew pink again, "It was very embarrassing because I sobbed and clung to her."

Sansa felt her eyes begin to water and did her best to blink it back. She hated thinking of Shireen as a young girl at Dragonstone who found being embraced so foreign that the first time it was offered, she dissolved into tears. Of course, she knew the cool demeanor Shireen described in her family was not singular to them. A majority of parents within the nobility left much of their childrens' early interactions to be primarily with servants and each other rather than their parents. Indeed, she had been chastised for spending too much time with her children, being told it would harm them in a variety of ways such as making them too dependent and not giving them a sense of the harshness of the world in which they lived. Shireen having asked this question allowed her to believe there was more harm in wondering whether your parents lacked the ability to show you they care for you.

"I cannot say I made any effort to change your father," Sansa said after carefully considering the truth of her answer. "The effort I made was to care for him, for I felt to do otherwise would make me miserable. I came into our marriage with respect, but I wanted to . . . to love him."

"Are you saying you can make yourself love someone?" Shireen inquired with great interest. "I know that maids are often told they will grow to love their husbands when they learn to whom they are betrothed, yet I have never quite believed it possible."

Sansa found it difficult to put her thoughts into words. "It seems to me there are many different types of love as well as ways love is born. When it comes to romantic love, it sometimes ignites like a spark to flint. It is often passionate and burns hot, yet has a danger of burning out quickly, leaving nothing but ash. Sometimes it comes a little bit each day, growing over time until you discover that your feelings have altered, become stronger. That was the way it was with me and I believe the realization came just before Steffon was born. I probably should not admit I was initially incredulous at learning that respect and admiration turned to appreciation and trust, and then to genuine love before I knew it was upon me. What I am saying is that my primary objective was to care for your father. Because of all that was said about him, I believed it impossible he would care for me in return. At best, I hoped he would tolerate me when he could not avoid me."

"So," Shireen attempted to digest the information she had been given, "did you grow to care for him because you saw he was growing fond of you or did he come to care for you because you showed him affection?"

"I think our feelings for each other came upon us both around the same time, rather than one being caused one from the other. This does not answer what you initially asked, although I am not sure I have a direct answer for that either. You implied that your father changed in some way. I do not believe he changed as much as he became came to have faith in our regard and, thus, became more comfortable in showing his. He does not travel as much as king as he did as Master of Ships, so he saw you and your lady mother very little."

Shireen grinned and Sansa wasn't sure if it was caused by her description of her father as one now at ease with displays of affection or at her poor attempt at trying to excuse his earlier behavior until she quipped, " _More_  comfortable my father might be, yet he is not  _completely_  comfortable."

Sansa let out a small laugh in return, "No, nor is he likely to be."

The two walked for a while in companionable silence before Shireen brought up another subject. "Lord Willas Tyrell comes to King's Landing within a fortnight to attempt to make peace for House Tyrell."

"It would be well if your father and he could come to terms," Sansa replied. "If, indeed, he comes with the ability to treat on behalf of Lord Tyrell." She found that last part difficult to believe given what she had heard of Mace Tyrell and his ambition.

There was more silence; Shireen walked with her hands clasped in front of her, her thumbs moving one over the other. Sansa recognized this as a mannerism she had when disquieted and waited to see if she would speak to what was bothering her without prodding. Her patience was rewarded. "There is also a rumor that he comes with an offer of a betrothal for me to Ser Loras."

Sansa had not heard this from Stannis or from Marya, who she was certain would have spoken to her of it if she had heard such from Davos. Marya did not have a lose tongue, but where Shireen's future was concerned, she would not be silent. "If it is true, what opinion have you of the match?"

It was Shireen's turn to take her time and choose her words carefully. "I have not met Ser Loras, but I know he is reputed to be quite handsome. He named you Queen of Love and Beauty at the Tourney of the Hand for Lord Stark, did he not?"

She tried to lighten the conversation by speaking of Ser Loras positively. "There was a time when the mere sight of the Knight of Flowers made me swoon. Some considered his choice of horse the day of the tournament to be underhanded, but his naming The Hound, Lord Clegane, as the winner after saving him from the wrath of Gregor Clegane . . . I thought it quite gallant."

"I will do as my father wishes," Shireen remarked evasively with an intake of breath that was visible when she let it out sharply.

"That does not answer my question and I have answered yours as best I could this day," Sansa pursued. "What is your opinion of the match?"

Shireen glanced downward toward her feet instead of straight ahead as she had been; her increased agitation obvious. "I hope my father does not agree to that part of the treat. I have no desire to be married to a lauded knight who attracts a great deal of attention from other ladies and who was so closely allied with my Uncle Renly against my father. From what I have heard, his allegiance to my uncle was akin to great devotion. However, I will marry Ser Loras if that is as my father wishes."

Even now, Sansa could not imagine marriage to the Knight of Flowers as a hardship one endured in the name of alliance, but there was no doubting Shireen saw the prospect in that light. It was possible it was maidenly jitters. After all, she had all but admitted to being attached to Devan Seaworth, yet claimed she had no wish to marry him either, saying it would be an emotionally unequal marriage. Stannis would fight the Small Council if they tried to force a marriage she did not want. That said, Sansa also knew Shireen would never tell him of any objection she had to anything she thought would make his reign on the Iron Throne safer, as any valid alliance would do.

Wishing to comfort her, Sansa stopped as they were back at the entry to the Godswood. She lifted her stepdaughter's chin upward. "I have yet to know any man or boy who has met you who does not respect and admire you, Shireen. There is nothing the Small Council can do to make your father agree to a betrothal to someone he does not believe worthy of you. And to be truly worthy, he cannot be dimwitted. Only one who is dimwitted would be incapable of seeing how fortunate he will be to have you by his side."


	16. The Lord of Highgarden

Shireen

Shireen sat on the dais in the Throne Room on the left side of her father as he sat on the Iron Throne. Sansa sat on his right with Davos and the rest of the Counsel and the King's Guard as they waited for Lord Willas Tyrell to enter the room. Her father informed them a few days before his arrival that the heir of House Tyrell would be their guest for a moon. Shireen was grateful that she would not be leaving right away if her father agreed to the Tyrell's terms of her marriage to Ser Loras, yet found it odd he was staying so long given that he and his house were not already an ally. Sansa had the same thought and remarked on it.

"Lord Willas has been traveling by land through The Reach, stopping to visit bannermen along the way. He is regarded more highly than Lord Tyrell among them and would be welcome. Given his crushed leg, he has admitted to preferring time to recover before he makes the journey back. He asked that he be allowed to spend time in Kings Landing as a guest, which would allow us to get to know one another before discussing the terms of the treat." Shireen noted that her father's voice held a hint of respect. "He understood his request for additional time here would be regarded with suspicion and said he would understand if his request was not granted. However, if we did host the longer visit, he would agree to whatever limitations or guards shadowing him deemed necessary to ease tensions."

Sansa had smiled at her husband sitting on the settee next to her, "You would not have agreed to such, I suspect." It went without saying that she spoke of the time before he was king.

"No, I would not," her father had agreed. "Getting to know him is not a plan I relish, but it is not a plan without merit. Tyrell . . . his father . . . is reckless and ambitious. That combination seldom leads to an advanced age, so having a sense of the man next in line as the liege lord of The Reach would be advantageous."

It was only a few minutes before Lord Willas was announced and entered, followed by one knight from The Reach that she did not know. She had learned that part of the conditions of his longer visit was that his party be met at the boarder of The Reach and King's Landing where he would be escorted to the Red Keep by Baratheon men and only one of his knights. Lord Willas had readily agreed.

The Lord, whose age she was not certain of but suspected was about ten years more than her age of sixteen, was dark of hair and eyes. His hair was clipped at the same level as his square chin and possessed curls she wished she had. Willas Tyrell was handsome, yet that description had never been used that she remembered. The only description of the young lord she had ever heard was that he was lame. To compensate for that, he walked with long metal poles fashioned from the same materials used for swords that were made in such a way that they were positioned under his arms and his weight was held by them. They had leather affixed to the bottom to avoid digging into whatever surface they landed on. Shireen considered them rather ingenious. With his arms, he moved the long poles forward and then pulled himself to them, using his good leg to land on. When he drew close to the dais, he did his best to make a bow.

"Welcome to King's Landing, Lord Tyrell," King Stannis said, his voice not entirely convincing as a sincere greeting.

Shireen wondered if Lord Tyrell found her father's scowl and narrowed eyes intimidating and expected him to briefly focus briefly on Sansa as most did in this situation before turning back to her father. She wasn't sure if they were seeking a friendly or more pleasing face, or whether they were using her to judge the King's mood. However, Lord Tyrell glanced briefly at her before looking back at his king.

"I thank you for allowing this visit, Your Grace," he responded with no hint of effrontery at the less than cordial greeting. Shireen had never heard such a deep, clear voice.

In keeping with protocol, her father first introduced Sansa and then her, with Lord Willas bowing as he was able to each of them. Shireen found herself easily returning the polite smile he wore as he raised his head toward her. Her father continued with introductions to the nobles in the room, starting with Davos. Mention was made of a feast that evening and their guest was led out of the Throne Room to the chamber he would occupy for the next four sennights.

That evening at the feast, Shireen found herself seated between Lord Willas and Edric Storm. Her handmaid, Isla, had set out a new creation expertly made by the court seamstress, Nicola. She was told the Queen had picked the fabric and color, a shimmering red silk. Such gowns always gave her a mix of feeling. She would be pleased by the sight of it, appreciating the effort that went into such a lovely gown, and less pleased by the sight of her in it. Admittedly, Edric's wide smile upon seeing her did make her feel the effort was not totally lost. Lord Willas' greeting was polite and she worried the evening would be awkward since she was not as adept at small talk with strangers as her step-mother. It was a skill she had improved at, but improvement was not the same as excelling.

To her relief, Shireen found she did not have to practice her ability at making conversation. Lord Willas managed to both ask questions that spurred conversation and amuse with anecdotes that entertained, careful not to bring up situations where the Baratheons and Tyrells had found themselves on opposite sides. Even her father, who sat on Lord Willas' right, listened to most of the discourses and participated more than Shireen was used to his doing.

After the last course in the meal was served, Lord Willas leaned close to her and whispered, "Is there no dancing at the feasts at King's Landing?"

"Are you capable of dancing?" she asked without thinking, and then blushed profusely, trying to figure out a way to apologize.

He treated her blunder with a laugh. "Admittedly, I am not Princess, but I enjoy watching it. I hope it was not left out of tonight's festivities for my benefit."

"The Queen is very considerate of our guests," she replied, hoping her voice conveyed an air of lightness about the matter.

"The Princess is an excellent dancer," Edric provided in one of his many attempts to flatter her during the evening, causing her to blush in embarrassment.

Lord Willas regarded her with amusement, easily having concluded Edric's attachment to her and her inability to treat it casually. "So the night will end early?"

It was the King who answered him. "Earlier than most feasts in Westeros, Lord Willas. I hope you do not regard it as a slight. The business of the realm starts early in King's Landing and many here are required to be clear-headed upon the morrow."

"Admirable," their guest returned and while Shireen listened for a hint of sarcasm, she found none. "While I was in earnest when I said I enjoyed observing the dance, an evening spent with good food and convivial conversation that does not end with a headache the next morning is far more enjoyable."

Seated one table away was Devan Seaworth. Shireen found herself unable to stop from glancing his way often during the feast. He was seated next to Lady Jeyne Tarly, who seemed able to retain his attention with ease. Lady Jeyne had a curvaceous figure for a girl so young and her melodic laugh could be heard at the main table. Shireen felt a touch of jealousy at how engaged Devan appeared and tried to squelch it. If she wanted, all she had to do was to hint to her father than she wished to marry Devan and the betrothal would be set before another day had passed. She would never trap Devan into a marriage that she wanted, but he did not. It would be miserable for both of them and end the friendship they did have.

"Lord Seaworth's son will be knighted soon, will he not?" Lord Willas interrupted her thoughts, letting her know he was aware of the amount of attention she was directing at Devan.

"The three of us grew up together, sharing the same schoolroom as children," Edric supplied, still trying to monopolize her. "We will both be knighted sometime this year."

"Yes," Shireen added. "The three of us have been close friends for as long as we can remember. I shall be very proud when both are knighted." It seemed sufficient enough to satisfy Lord Willas' curiosity and Edric's ego.

After the evening was over and she was in her bed dozing towards sleep, Shireen found she had enjoyed her conversation with Lord Willas and she found she considered the feast a pleasant evening, despite having to watch Devan being pursued by the Tarly girl and Edric's pursuit of her.

In the days that followed, Lord Willas invited her to both accompany him in riding and when he entertained the Seaworth boys and her brother, Steffon, with the skill of his falcon. He also joined Sansa and her on several of their walks in the Godswood. Shireen was impressed with both the speed and grace he managed on uneven ground with his walking poles, and how soon she stopped thinking about slowing down to accommodate him.

In a plan she assumed was designed by Sansa, Lord Willas alternated between having dinner with them, the Seaworths, and the members of the King's Guard not on duty. On those occasions when he was their guest, Shireen was quite pleased to see that her father grew less suspicious and more relaxed with him, as much as the King was capable of relaxing. For her part, Shireen found herself comfortable with him in an uncomfortable way. She assumed he spent time with her to assess how well she would assimilate with his family and how compatible she might be with his brother. He never spoke to her of Ser Loras except for occasional references to him when he was part of some story he was relaying.

On the walks in the Godswood when it was just the two of them, Sansa would tease her about Edric's sulking about the time she spent with Lord Willas, and his attention to her although they both knew the reason behind it. She allowed the teasing, as it was well intentioned. There was one advantage to Lord Willas' arrival and the time she spent with him – she realized that it made her thoughts dwell on Devan Seaworth less and less.


	17. Ravens and Relations

Stannis

A raven was sent to King's Landing by the steward of the Eyrie that Lady Baelish, formerly Lady Arryn, had, in a fit of madness, pushed her husband out of the Moon Door and followed him to her death. This was done, according to the steward, just before they were to leave to spend their winter at the Gates of the Moon. Later the same night, another raven arrived – this one from Dreadfort. Sitting in the Small Council with his Hand about an hour before the others were due to arrive, Stannis first read the raven from the Eyrie and then the one penned by Lord Clegane. Davos remarked when handing him the second raven, "The beginning is family news, Your Grace, but the last part concerns Winterfell although I do not understand the very end."

Stannis skimmed the part Davos had deemed family news, noting that it contained the revelation that Lord Clegane was to be a father. He filed that away to think on later and went to the part concerning Winterfell. Clegane reported that he had received word from Winterfell that a Maester Pate had arrived at Winterfell after a journey from Oldtown. He was accompanied by a Maester Tarly who would accompany Jon Snow back to The Wall. Winterfell's rookery required the expertise of a maester to replenish it and still only had ravens that traveled between Riverrun, Dreadfort, and Castle Black. The raven said that the Lord Commander personally knew Maester Tarly, who said that while Maester Pate was reputed as having a slow start at the Citadel, he quite suddenly moved from Novice, to Acolyte, to Maester in a remarkable amount of time and was considered gifted. He had a gold chain as a maester of economics and a silver one representing his expertise in medicine.

The cryptic remark Davos did not understand at the end of the raven was comprehended perfectly by Stannis. Clegane stated that he had recently been successful at ridding the area of some vermin and that the vermin had been responsible for more than damage than originally believed.

Handing the Dreadfort raven back to Davos, Stannis knew he could not reveal that the Baelishes were the vermin Cleagane was speaking of until they took their afternoon walk from the Small Council chambers to Maegar's later that afternoon. Out in the open air was where they were less likely to be overheard by those who made it their business to know. Information was something one could use to personal advantage, or to be sold to someone to whom it might have value. Stannis considered it a duty to ensure valuable information was closely guarded and that allies were closely guarded.

Stannis was grateful to Clegane for taking care of Baelish in a manner that, as of yet, did not seem suspect. He was satisfied his wife's aunt colluded in the death of Lord Arryn, and as such, her murder did not cause him overmuch distress about a possible injustice. It remained to be seen whether the story of her being insane and killing herself and Lord Baelish would go uncontested at the Eyrie or at the Riverlands in the area of Harrenhal. Like Melisandre's disappearance, it was quite possible no one cared enough to question it.

"I hope the Queen will not be too disheartened by the death of her aunt," Davos cut into his thoughts. "She has had a great deal to grieve over of late."

He could not say with certainty Sansa would not grieve for the aunt she barely knew, yet hoped it would not be as she had for her mother or Robb Stark. There was no question she would not grieve the loss of the man others called Littlefinger and whom Sansa had privately called Shriveledcock. It was the first and only time he had ever heard her say something so vulgar and inappropriate and, after a few seconds of shock, it had made him break out in laughter . . . after which, Sansa was the shocked one.

Davos pulled at the glove covering his hand with shortened fingers. Were he a man who allowed himself regrets, Stannis knew such a stark punishment for his crimes as a smuggler might have been one. "Arryn's son, Robert, is now Lord Arryn. How old is he?" Davos asked.

Stannis breathed in and let it out slowly as he remembered the day Robert's Hand, Lord Jon Arryn, had asked him to foster his son. That request, when relayed to his wife, had probably allowed Baelish to talk the woman who had always fancied herself in love with him to assist him in killing her husband. "I believe him to be about two or three and ten, possibly younger. The question is whether the new Lord Arryn's life will be safe if the next in line is named regent and how much influence can we exert to if a threat is deemed probable."

"Hopefully, Ser Axell will know enough of Harold Hardyng for that threat to be determined, Your Grace."

It took restraint to avoid rolling his eyes. "Florent will not be able to tell us any more than we could learn from asking the ladies of the court, as I am sure they are who he goes to for his information."

Davos smirked in unspoken agreement. "Speaking of Florent, he wants to know when Lord Willas will reveal House Tyrell's terms."

"There is no rush. The Queen tells me Shireen does not view the match favorably. There could be any number of reasons why, including the possibility that her mother never spoke well of House Tyrell. I cannot believe this marriage is a critical term."

"It could be that the true nature is to get a Tyrell in King's Landing," Davos observed, "Lord Tyrell would see a son who is not an heir as best of service to him here."

Strannis' scowl grew fierce, "Tyrell has no fear that I will see it as an insult that he offered a third son for my daughter. I have many reasons I do not desire this match, yet it is enough to know Shireen has no interest in marrying or in leaving King's Landing for Highgarden." What Stannis did not speak of was his strong suspicion that his brother, Renly, and Ser Loras had been lovers, and that Ser Loras was not a man who would find any pleasure in a wife. Indeed, he might resent her.

The tone Davos adopted was one he used when he was about to wade into waters he wasn't sure Stannis would receive well. "All alliances aside, is there any marriage offer you would receive favorably, Sire?"

"Probably not," Stannis admitted, knowing he was speaking to a man who considered himself Shireen's beloved uncle rather than the Hand of the King. "I cannot imagine Ned Stark would have come to me with an offer for Sansa, nor would he have allowed his lady to do so. As much as we are loathed to admit it, this business is probably best left to our ladies. When there is a serious offer, I hope I have the good sense to rely on the Queen to tell me whether the match is in Shireen's best interests."


	18. Flying

Willas

It had taken Willas the better part of a year to convince his lord father that Ser Jaime was not going to overthrow King Stannis to put his son on the throne as a pretender Baratheon. His brother, Garlan, and he had tried to tell their sister that producing the heir to the throne her father so desperately wanted to be the grandsire of by Renly Baratheon would not be as easy as she thought. They had wanted to spare her what they knew about the relationship between Loras and Renly. Margaery had smiled a sweet, knowing smile and insisted she would be able to bear a child by him. Either she knew and had some way to dupe Renly or involve Loras. Neither was something he wanted to know more about. When Renly was mysteriously killed, leaving Margaery a maiden widow, his father set about devising a plan to marry Margaery to Prince Joffrey. The rumors that he was having his betrothed beaten for his amusement did not seem to matter. Willas had privately applauded when King Stannis turned down his father's offer of Margaery after he defeated the Lannisters and took control of King's Landing, saying there was no condition under which he would marry Renly's widow. It was Willas' fervent wish that both would give up their obsession with the Iron Throne.

Lord Tyrell's terms were simple. He wanted full pardoning for all of those from The Reach who had fought for or supported the claim of Joffrey, Renly, or Tommen. In turn, he would supply part of their store of Winter rations to the benefit of the houses in the North who were weakened due to the war and return the prisoners he held at Highgarden. There were other terms Willas expected to be negotiated as a matter of course but ultimately worked through. However, the one term he had argued vehemently with his father over had been his insistence that Loras be accepted as a husband to Princess Shireen. Tyrell laughed when Willas maintained that the King would not favor someone so closely allied with his late brother – it went without saying that if he knew the true nature of their relationship, he would be against the match even more so.

"With her Florent ears and scaly face, Stannis can hardly be selective. Garlan is married and you surely do not want to bring her back to Highgarden as your bride! Besides, I want a Tyrell in King's Landing to report back to me and look for any advantage that could possibly be seized to bring Stannis down after he so facetiously dismissed Margaery as if she were tainted. I will show him whose daughter is tainted!"

Willas had not answered Tyrell when he implied Willas would not want to marry the Princess. At the time, he did not; however, not for the reason implied. In Highgarden, beauty was highly prized and the lack of it often scorned. There was no denying he was treated as "less" now that he was no longer a handsome young lord, but instead, the crippled heir. Willas had expected King Stannis would be no more eager to have a crippled good son than he would be to see his daughter married to his brother's lover.

Yet for all the talk of Stannis Baratheon's cold demeanor and extreme sense of justice, Willas found his time in King's Landing surprisingly pleasant, as well as revealing. His personal assessment of the King was that he was far superior ruler to those who sat on the Iron Throne before him. Yes, he was blunt and to the point, and brooked no nonsense. What he had never heard before was what a family man the King was. Willas suspected King Stannis did not want it known and would not appreciate Willas having discerned it. It wasn't evident in large ways but in the small ones. There was the way his eyes lit up when he beheld his queen. The way he indulged his son's energetic wanderings and curiosity. The manner in which he listened to and showed Shireen a respect seldom seen between a father and his young daughter. And then there was the way he held newborn daughter as though she were as fragile as glass and more precious as gold. This man would never use any of his children in the quest for power. In return, a man reputed as being unlikeable was unquestionably esteemed by his family. He was also highly regarded by his men and Willas could see why. King Stannis judged my merit, not by birth. His Hand was a former smuggler and crabber's son raised to a Lord solely based on his loyalty and capability. The leader of the King's Guard was a bastard son of a noble lord. King Stannis did not treat women or the aged as inferiors. He wasn't a pleasant man with an engaging manner, but the King was one who did not get the credit he deserved for putting his duty to others before himself.

The other revelation was how much he genuinely admired Shireen Baratheon. Despite her being a good ten years younger, he found her well educated and unaffected. Where other girls her age flirted and flattered, she showed a lack of guile and sincere interest. Shireen was not comely, although neither was she homely. He found it did not matter – not to him or to the other young men around her. Willas assumed she was aware of Edric Storm's attachment to her. How could she not? Rather than torment him with it as he knew Margaery would do a boy who held no advantage for her, Shireen tried to put distance between them without losing his friendship or being unkind. Indeed, being unkind seemed to be something Shireen did her best to avoid. Whether she was aware of Devan Seaworth's attachment, he was less assured. The son of the Hand was not overtly courting her attentions and, very astutely, appeared to know he was not likely to marry a Princess. It told Willas much about her that those she had grown up with had remained devoted to her.

Having observed Shireen's devotion to her young siblings and the Seaworth daughter, Willas also found he could not be responsible for leading her toward a marriage that would not be likely to make her the mother she so obviously wanted to be. He knew the first time he saw her patiently pacing in the Queen's solar with Princess Catelyn in her arms in an effort to soothe the crying child that it was more than conscience that determined him to not offer on Loras' behalf and to do what he was now about to do. Willas could not say he was in love with the girl, but he had to admit to some sort of feeling he was not used to for Shireen Baratheon.

Shireen did not seem to find it odd when he invited her to accompany him into the garden while he exercised the falcon he brought on the journey with him. Usually, he waited until the Seaworth boys were free of the training yards to engage in this as they were a fascinated audience. Willas could tell the activity was not entirely to her liking, and that was expected of a tender-hearted young girl. It somehow added to his appreciation of her that she did not enjoy the sport, yet did not chastise him for his enjoyment of it.

"I meet with the King and his Hand on the morrow to discuss the terms of a treat between our families," he began as he released his falcon from its tether. Fortunately, it was a sunny day and warmer than it had been for several days prior, although still cold enough that they were both wearing furs and Shireen had the scarf around her head and neck that both provided warmth and covered her scales. He wished she did not feel the gesture necessary with him.

Not as capable as her father at hiding her emotions, but far better than most girls her age, Shireen reacted briefly to the news with a look of panic and quickly masked it. "We shall miss you when you conclude your business with the King and begin your journey back to Highgarden."

"And who is 'we'?" Willas asked, releasing the falcon and keeping his focus on the bird of prey.

"Besides Queen and me, Stanny and Steffon Seaworth will miss you and your bird. I regret my brother is not old enough to benefit from your indulgence in showing them the sport."

Willas smiled, leaning on the walking pole under the arm on the side of his bad leg. "So you would miss me?"

"Of course," she replied, blushing and somewhat embarrassed.

It was not his intent to torment her, so he continued with the purpose for which he had invited her here. "I have learned that King's Landing is awash with an expectation that I am here to make an offer for you on behalf of my brother, Loras. Have you heard the rumors as well?"

Now her cheeks were bright red rather than slightly pink. "Yes," was her unelaborated answer.

"Princess, that particular offer will not be made unless His Grace proposes it. Should he do so, I would seek to advise him otherwise. I am fond of my brother, but he is not one who would be a good husband to a lady who wishes a family. I trust you would make any man an excellent wife, but I say this because Loras would not be equal to being an excellent husband." Willas hoped he would not have to elaborate.

If she was offended, Shireen showed no sign of it. I truth, she looked relieved. Perhaps she had an inkling about her uncle and Loras.

Now, it was his turn to put himself in a vulnerable position. "I would, however, like to propose another marriage prospect to His Grace. Before I do so, I would like to know your true opinion of the match and ask that you do not trouble yourself about offending me with the truth."

Willas waited to see if she would react to his lead, and when she did no more than wait for him to continue, he did so. "Princess, I would like to offer myself as your husband. Mine is decidedly not the best offer you will receive, but I cannot imagine one made with more sincerity."

In his brief time in King's Landing, Willas had learned that emotions, if shown at all, were first to be evidenced in Shireen's eyes. This was a trait she shared with her father, although he showed far less emotion far less often. At present, Shireen's dark blue eyes only registered shock. He was totally unprepared for what came next. "Why would you wish to offer for me?"

He wondered if her question had to do with a belief that her disfigurement meant no one would voluntarily offer for her, outside of Storm or Seaworth, or whether she was suspect of anyone offering for her given her status as a princess of the realm. Willas could be no less than honest with her. "My Lady, I believe we have a unique view of those around us and that is brought on by the misfortunes we have experienced. While I say this with respect for I consider her a fine Queen and a fine lady, Queen Sansa's first glance at me brought pity while yours showed only a mild curiosity which I would suspect you have toward all strangers. We see beyond that which we observe with our eyes and we do so because that is how we, ourselves, wish to be viewed, is it not?"

"Yes," she agreed.

"I do not propose our betrothal because we have both met with situations that have left us scarred in some way, although it does give us a unique understanding of one another. I sat up half the night trying to determine why I was proposing our betrothal and while I could speak to you of my respect and admiration for you, and it would be in earnest, in truth I propose it for no other reason than because I sincerely believe we will be good for and to one another."

Willas knew it was not the flowery protestation of devotion of song a young lady would be swayed by, but it was an honest declaration. Again, Shireen surprised him with a question he wasn't prepared for or fully understood her reason for asked it. "Did my father ask you to speak to me thus?"

All he could do was answer. "No, My Lady, I wished your permission to approach the King with this offer. I will not do so unless I have your approval."

"Forgive me," she began, her brow furrowed from looking up at him in the sunlight or possibly from consternation, he wasn't sure which. Her hesitation made him brace for rejection, but that wasn't where she led. "I once told my father that I would be . . . that while I did not expect to have a say in a marriage offer, I would be forever grateful to any man who showed me the respect of seeking my consent."

This pleased him. If he understood her, he had done well in talking to her first. "You expected that I spoke to the King, who then advised me to bring the matter to you first for approval?"

"It would not be unlike him to remember the conversation and seek to . . . to seek something that would make me more at ease," Shireen explained. No, it would not be unlike the man he was getting to know and wished to know further. Willas was sure he could learn far more King Stannis than from Lord Tyrell.

"And are you at ease?" Willas prompted. He believed she had not found his offer offensive, yet he still had no notion of whether she intended to consider it. For a while, he tended to the return of his falcon with a blackbird, forcing himself to be patient.

"My Lord, you asked for my honesty and that is well, for I find it difficult to play false." Shireen looked away from him and down at the ground. Again, he could not tell if she was avoiding him or the sun, although he tried to move so that it shone less brightly in her eyes when she looked up. "The prospect of marrying you, Lord Willas, instead of your brother, would be quite . . . agreeable to me were it not for how I imagine the rest of your family would look upon the match. Until last night, I assumed that a marriage would require me to leave for Highgarden and that was something . . . I could not see myself fitting in among the splendor I've heard reported there. Then I learned that the offer of your brother would presume we would stay here in King's Landing. I do not wish to marry your brother, yet it would ease tensions between our families, if a marriage is required for an alliance, that I not be removed to Highgarden."

Willas felt a sense of indignation for her as he could not dispute what she said. It was not true of all his family, but true of the majority of them. "How did you learn of this intent that Loras would stay in King's Landing were you to marry?"

"It was a supposition by His Grace spoken to the Queen that I overheard as I arrived for supper." The words were barely above a whisper and caused her to bite her lip.

He hoped that was all the King said within her hearing, but he could not ask. "And would you favor the match between us if we were to stay in King's Landing, at least until the time, which may not come for me, that we would need to return to Highgarden?" Willas expected that Shireen understood her arriving at Highgarden as Lady Tyrell was vastly different from being the lady of the heir. There was no guarantee the King would approve or what he could do at King's Landing that would make it worth the King's interest. What he did know was that his lord father would not argue and would not see his eldest son no longer living at Highgarden as a great loss. They often did not see eye to eye and he knew his lord father chaffed at the knowledge that his bannermen would prefer to have Willas as their liege than him. However, his father might still insist on Loras at King's Landing in some capacity.

Shireen's eyes returned to his face and she made no apology for studying him so intently. He could practically see her looking for an ulterior motive. "I could, perhaps, ask His Grace for yet another day to begin our talk of a treat if you would like more time to consider? I am not sure he would wait longer than the day."

"I am able to answer you now, Lord Willas," Shireen replied, her voice a little hoarse but her back straight and her eyes still focused squarely on his. "I thank you for the honor you do me and my family in both considering me for your wife and in asking for my approval of the match." She paused and once again, Willas braced himself to accept a rejection. "While I would prefer to stay in King's Landing, I do not ask that you give up your home unless you wish it so. I hope that, should I meet with disapproval initially, I may win over your family in time."

It took a moment for it to sink in that she was agreeing to his offer. Once it did, he smiled broadly and, not sure what to do next, he stroked the head of his falcon with his finger. "My Lady, the honor is mine and I care not whether you win anyone over for those who do not realize your worth in short order are doomed to ignorance." Willas untethered and released the falcon again and they watched the bird fly high into the sky in companionable silence. He was certain Shireen had no notion of how pleased he was by her acceptance, for he truly had no idea himself until now.


	19. Trick or Treat

Stannis

Stannis kissed his sleeping wife's temple and gently extricated his torso from underneath her head and shoulders. He marveled at how soundly she slept in the morning. As was his custom, he heaped wood into the fireplace and lit kindling underneath it, and then slipped on his robe to make his way into his apartments. His new squire, Stannis Seaworth, had his clothes already set out. Unlike other nobles, Stannis did not require his squire's assistance when he dressed with the exception of pulling off his boots or girding for battle.

Once dressed, he went into the Map Room where bread, bits of cold lamb, and sop were set out for breaking his fast. After eating and reviewing the ledgers from the Master of the Coin, he made his way into the nursery, dismissing the nurse to wait outside while he spent time with his sleeping children. A creature of habit, Stannis first sat on his son's small bed and watched him. There was something comforting about the peaceful expressions his children wore as they slept. A time would come when he would have to see to it that Steffon toughened up to the challenges of being the heir of the Iron Throne. Sansa would not fully understand and he expected it to cause tension in their marriage, but it could not be helped. While he would put it off for as long as he could, his son would not be a Joffrey Baratheon or Robert Arryn.

Next, he stood and peered into Catelyn's cradle. Steffon favored him in appearance. Shireen was an even mix of Selyse and his mother. Before she was born, Stannis had assumed a daughter would favor Sansa, yet it was not entirely so. According to Sansa, their daughter most strongly resembled her sister, Arya, save having Tully blue eyes. Sansa also said she was showing signs of Arya's independence. He knew little about Arya Stark but admired the way she managed to stay alive after leaving King's Landing. Catelyn did not sleep as soundly as her brother, so Stannis was careful as he lightly ran the side of a finger along her chubby cheek. Visiting this nursery every morning before he went about the day's events reminded him of why it was important that he do his duty.

Today, that duty was both to the realm and to their sister. He was soon to sit with a man who would put forth his brother as husband to the daughter whose childhood Stannis had almost entirely missed. She had not had a happy childhood; he was damned if he would condemn her to an unhappy marriage. He would not allow her to be one of the sacrifices that had to be made for the sake of the realm.

When he arrived at the Small Council chambers, Davos was waiting for him. The rest had been told they need not be assembled today. The only member of the Small Council to express his displeasure at not being included in the treat with Lord Willas was Ser Axell. His natural dislike for all Tyrells would not be of value and could only serve as an embarrassment. Sansa may have been correct when she once said Florent brought out a side of things that Stannis needed to see, but he was also self-serving and full of himself. It would matter not to him that no longer having House Tyrell as an overt enemy was preferable for the stability of the realm.

After taking care of the only business that could not wait until the morrow, Stannis informed his Hand that he had not changed his mind regarding a betrothal of Shireen and Ser Loras and if the discussion of this matter became heated, he wanted Davos to excuse himself from the chamber so he could speak to Tyrell privately. Davos would never ask his king to explain himself, and he looked as though he did not need to. It did not matter if Davos suspected that Renly had bedded Ser Loras. If Stannis found he was required to speak of it, he would do so only with Tyrell and using the least amount of words possible. Stannis had not been concerned about his brother's sexual habits with the exception that, had he been made the king, he would have been far less likely to sire an heir. Ser Loras' sexual habits, however, were of great concern if a marriage to his daughter were in question.

As was the case on any day when the Small Council was in chambers, guards were placed in all possible locations so that no one could get close enough to overhear the discussions that went on there. Stannis had suggested this to Robert once, who had laughed at him and said the two biggest spies in the realm, Varys and Baelish, were already in the room. It was, however, the first thing Davos had implemented. Members of the Small Council were allowed to proceed. All others were stopped while another guard reported their arrival. It was one of those guards who announced that Lord Willas was waiting to be allowed to enter.

Tyrell hobbled in on this walking poles, bowing first to Stannis and then exchanging bows with Davos, who rose to greet him. "Please be seated, My Lord," he said firmly, motioning to the chair across from Davos while he sat at the head of the table.

"Good morning, Your Grace . . . My Lord," Tyrell greeted as he lowered himself into the chair and leaned the steel poles against the table where he could access them later.

There was no reason to delay. "What are your House's terms, Lord Willas?"

The young man looked down at the table and smiled, no doubt at his lack of pleasantries. "The crucial term, Your Grace, is for a pardon of all of The Reach now willing to swear their allegiance to your reign for any former alliances they may have had during the War of the Five Kings."

Deliberations took the next four hours, mostly in dealing with the smaller terms that all present knew were not of great significance. It was all part of making the work seem more difficult than it really was given its importance. Stannis began to wonder if rumors that Tyrell would be making an offer from Ser Loras for Shireen as part of House Tyrell's terms were true as he seemed to have concluded. The thought that his time as their guest may have caused him to reject Shireen angered him, but he held himself in check.

"Is that all?" Davos said when the young lord had provided no more stipulations for discussion.

"There is one other matter, but I ask, Lord Seaworth, that I am allowed to speak to our king privately." Tyrell requested. "This is of a more personal nature."

Stannis nodded when Davos looked at him questioningly. He knew Davos would wait outside the chamber at a distance where he could be called back inside in case he was needed. Davos stood and bowed to him. "Your Grace . . . Lord Willas," he said and made his exit.

Taking a deep breath, Stannis turned his head toward Tyrell and adopted his fiercest scowl. "Now, what is this personal matter of which you speak, My Lord?"

For the first time this morning, Tyrell looked uncomfortable. "Your Grace, my lord father sent me here with a condition which I cannot, in good conscience, bring to this table. It is important you know what I am about to ask of you instead is a personal request. "

Tyrell paused and waited for a reply. "I understand," Stannis confirmed, realizing he had no clue what was coming next.

"My father wishes a marriage between the Princess and my youngest brother. Along with that, he wishes that an exception be made to allow Ser Loras, as a married may, be made a member of the King's Guard."

"It will not happen," Stannis cut in impatiently. "Neither the marriage nor his appointment to the King's Guard." He did not care if Tyrell was offended.

"As I said," Tyrell remarked evenly, but Stannis saw a sense of urgency in his face he had not seen before. "I cannot countenance this condition either. My sincere and humble request is that you consider a betrothal between the Princess and me."

Of all the terms that had been conjectured prior to this day's event, no one had suggested this possibility. Stannis sat back in his seat and scrutinized Tyrell's face for any sign that this was some ruse or pretense. What he saw was a young man who was nervously awaiting an answer.

Not wanting his astonishment to show and unsure of what to say next, Stannis asked, "Have you any provisions attached to this request?"

"Provisions? No, Your Grace. I can do no more than assure you of my respect and admiration for the Princess, and that, if you consent to our marriage, I will do all within my power to ensure her happiness and her safety."

Stannis found it strange that Tyrell felt he could ensure Shireen's happiness. That was not a promise he would have been able to make Sansa at their betrothal. "I have no personal reason not to consider your suit, Lord Willas. However, I am reluctant to send my daughter to Highgarden."

This did not cause Tyrell to blink, giving Stannis the impression that he had already considered this. "I cannot give up Highgarden altogether. Like you, I was born with a duty that will not be set aside. That said, I am not required at Highgarden until such time as I, and hopefully my lady, must assume those duties. I agree that, for the present, Princess Shireen's happiness lay in being close to her family, especially her brother and sister. That begs the question about whether I can be of use to you in King's Landing were I to stay as your good son. Only you know the answer to that, Your Grace."

He could not stop himself from asking, "What does House Tyrell get from this?"

The question elicited a smile from Tyrell. "House Tyrell does, indeed, gain much from such a match, Your Grace. They are guaranteed that the next Lady Tyrell will carry on with qualities of grace and poise similar to her predecessor."

Stannis had little respect for Mace Tyrell, but he had thought well of Lady Tyrell on the one occasion they met so he chose to consider the remark as a sincere compliment to Shireen. "I cannot give you an answer this day, Lord Willas. I will need to consult with my daughter and the Queen." He purposely did not mention the Small Council as he would not consult them on this decision.

"The Princess is aware that I am speaking of this with you today," Lord Willas replied. He began to regain his passive composure. "I spoke to her yesterday, determined to have her approval before I asked for yours. I asked her not to speak to you as doing so might cause you to assume my offer was made to bring some sort of influence to this morning's proceedings."

"And she agreed to the betrothal?"

"I asked whether she favored the match and approved of my speaking to you, Sire. She knows it is for you to agree. But yes, she has given the match her approval."

If Stannis were one to believe in signs and prophesy, he knew he would be giving far too much significance to his remembrance of his daughter, years ago, telling him that were a man to ask for approval, she would love him from then on. He would find out soon enough if that still held true. There was no denying it was quite . . . he had no word he could put to it other than "odd" . . . that she had desired such an unusual thing to happen and that it had.

"Then I shall bid you good day," Stannis said, standing. Tyrell made as quick a work of standing with his walking poles as possible and they left the chamber together, meeting Davos outside the main chamber. Davos and Tyrell exchanged brief bows and Tyrell left them, soon accompanied by his knight and the guard assigned to shadow him that day.

Once they assumed he was out of their hearing, Davos raised an eyebrow. "Did your refusal change House Tyrell's acceptance of the agreements previously made, Your Grace?" he asked as they began their journey, Stannis to Maegor's and Davos to the Tower.

"He did not make the offer we expected. He offered himself as husband for Shireen, having asked her for her favor toward the match yesterday."

Davos did not speak right away, obviously absorbing this unexpected turn of events. "Was our information that much in error?"

"Lord Tyrell intended his eldest son to bring an offer for the younger. It was Lord Willas who changed his mind, or so he said."

"Do you suspect an ulterior motive?"

Stannis could not dismiss the possibility, but he really could not fathom what it would be in the time he had had to consider it. "I can think of none, as of yet. I have not told you all. He offered to stay in King's Landing until such time as they would be called to return to Highgarden and liege lord."

Again, Davos took time before answering. "For my opinion, Sire, Lord Willas would be a preferable addition to King's Landing than Ser Loras if we must have a Tyrell in our midst. However, he is much shrewder and it would be far more difficult to know if he were being duplicitous."

"I will first hear what Shireen has to say about this, and then hear Sansa's thoughts. We will meet in the Map Room later this afternoon."

Davos acknowledged his orders with a bow and left him to sojourn toward the Tower. Ser Rolland and Ser Justin came closer behind him as they made their way to Maegor's. Once there, he found his family in Sansa's solar. Steffon was the first to acknowledge his entry by running to him as fast as his little legs would carry him. "Keeeeng!" Sansa persistently tried to get him to say "Father" but Stannis found this amusing and did not attempt to correct him.

Picking his son up, he carried him toward the settee. "What have you been doing this morning, Prince Steffon?"

"Playing with Shree!"

"And not with your sister, Catelyn?"

Steffon looked at him as if he was being ridiculous. "Catielyn sleeps all the time." Steffon did mimic what he saw others do in relation to the baby. Initially, he would not tolerate Shireen giving his sister attention in his presence without a display of temper. To his approval, neither Sansa nor Shireen gave him to those fits and they were less forthcoming.

His son never wished to be held for more than a minute before wanting down to pursue something or someone else, so he bent down and set the boy's feet on the floor, watching as he moved across the room. The look Sansa gave him as he rose up let him know she had been told of Tyrell's intent. He sat down, noticing that Sansa sat next to Shireen instead of him as she usually did. Stannis made a deliberate effort to soften his look as he turned his focus on his daughter.

"So, Shireen, I understand that you know of the offer made for you this day?"

Shireen looked composed, as if they were about to discuss the weather. "I do, Father. Forgive me for not speaking of it to you yesterday. Lord Willas was concerned it would look as though he was seeking favor and I agreed with him."

"And did you not wish me to view him with favor?" When he heard the question come out of his mouth, Stannis thought it rather innane.

"What I knew, Father, was that you would suspect him as trying to gain an advantage in the treat. I found it insightful of Lord Willas to see that as well without my suggesting it."

She was making herself completely unreadable and Stannis knew he would be better off talking to Sansa about this alone. Sansa would have spent the morning determining Shireen's true feelings. There was one question he would ask her directly. "How do you regard living at Highgarden?"

Shireen bit her lip, one of her signs of distress. Rather than look at him as she spoke, she turned to Sansa. "Before you knew you were to be betrothed to my father, you spoke longingly of going home to Winterfell. Yet, you did your duty and made King's Landing your home." She now turned her attention toward him. "I am not anxious to leave here and live in Highgarden, but only because I do not wish to leave you, the Queen, or my brother and sister. That said, there is no one I see making as viable a marriage with as Lord Willas. We respect one another and we enjoy each other's company. Few start with as much in a marriage."

There was nothing there with which he could argue. "I have striven to keep the matter of your marriage separate from being a matter of the realm . . . "

"I know," Shireen interrupted; something he couldn't remember her ever doing before intentionally. "And I love you for it, Father. It does not follow that a marriage that serves the realm would not serve me as well. We have not always had fortune favor us. When it does, as it did when Lady Stark made your marriage to Sansa a condition of Stark fealty, we should not dismiss it out of hand. "

There it was – she was arguing for the match rather than acquiescing to it. Stannis still wanted to know Sansa's thoughts before he met with Davos again. "I wish to speak with the Queen in private and ask that you wait for me in your apartments. I will not be long."

Shireen stood and Stannis noticed Sansa patting her hand before she did so, although he had no idea what it was meant to signify. She curtsied and left the room. Stannis let out a huge sigh and reached forward to the cradle placed between the two settees. Cautiously, he picked up his youngest daughter and held the gurgling infant against his chest. "Please tell me it will be a very long time before I have to consider parting with this one," he muttered.

"If we do not part with them, they cannot give us grandchildren," Sansa attempted to soothe him.

He looked down at the bundle he held smiling up at him with Sansa's eyes. In many ways, it seemed only yesterday that Shireen was this small. Stannis could only blame himself for not having memories of holding Shireen thus. When he was being uncharitable, he blamed Selyse for not encouraged him to do so the way Sansa had, yet he knew it was not true. Right now, he wanted to hold on to his daughters with all his considerable might . . . but he knew he could not.

"Well," he began, still holding Catelyn and looking to his wife, "What is your opinion of the match?"


	20. Contemplation

Shireen

Shireen worked hard at trying to be optimistic. It was a constant struggle for her natural inclination was her father's – to think of all could possibly go wrong and likely will. This inclination also caused her to think negatively when it came to herself and the view others had of her. It was not that she didn't feel loved by her family. On the contrary, since coming to King's Landing, she felt a strong sense of love and family that had eluded her at Dragonstone. One positive thought she did have was that her father did not think less of her when she was a child, but that Sansa had taught him how to let it show through. Nor did she believe her mother had not loved her as much as she did not know how to show it either. Shireen was able to discern this because she had learned from Sansa's example as well.

Soon, her father would be here interrogating her on her thought on Lord Willas and their possible betrothal. Shireen wasn't sure she could explain the jumbled and confused rationale she had for giving Lord Willas her approval. Nor was she able to explain to herself why she was so prepared to argue in favor of the match should her father contend against it. The King would not want her to accept Lord Willas because they both had met with misfortunes that left her disfigured and him lame. There would be those who would think both families framed the match for just this reason. While the match had not been proposed by the families, Lord Willas was correct in saying their situations enabled them to see beyond that which they were capable of observing with their eyes. It made them both able to look within a person rather than on the surface. Some who experienced misfortune were made bitter. While she knew they both had regrets and, certainly, she wished she had never had greyscale, neither of them was made bitter by their situation. And, neither would they be made bitter by being married to each other. Her father would not want to hear it, but few in the realm would not resent having to marry the King's greyscale-scarred daughter. She and Lord Willas knew that everyone had scars and misfortunes; theirs were just not as easily hidden. They both knew others saw them as inferior and they both knew it was not true. It was the marriage of equality she had wished for. Additionally, it was helpful that she liked the deep, rich timber of his voice; his dark eye;, and especially the way he smelled of sandalwood.

Since her walk with Lord Willas, Shireen forced herself to consider the likelihood that Lord Willas had an ulterior, duplicitous motive in his offer. Given what she had heard about his lord father's desire to be the grandsire of a future king and her father's refusal years ago to marry Lady Margaery, a highest probably of a Tyrell heir was if she and Lord Willas had a son and something were to happen to Steffon. If she had come to realize that possibility, the Tyrells would as well. It would not be lost on House Florent either. Her mother's house had no love for the Tyrells, yet they would prefer an heir with a Florent bloodline than one without. While she trusted that Lord Willas would be satisfied with an heir to Highgarden, he could not control his lord father's ambitions. That said, she had to assume Lord Tyrell was not ignorant. Were he to attempt harm to Steffon before the King died, her father would reign down on him the likes of which he must know he could not begin to defeat. And while it was not something to be spoken of, Shireen knew Lord Tyrell would not want to deal with Lord Clegane were something nefarious to happen to Sansa's son. That meant Lord Tyrell, or anyone so inclined for House Tyrell or in collusion with House Florent, would have to wait. Waiting could mean other sons sired by her father. Sansa was certainly young enough to give her father several more sons and Lord Tyrell could not get rid of them all without suspicion. All of them would be in line as heir before her son. This knowledge and what she would ask of her father because of it may cost her the betrothal to Lord Willas. So be it. It was a good match, a match she desired, but it wasn't worth there being such a risk to Steffon.

Her handmaid arrived with the pitcher of water and lemons she requested, followed shortly by her father. He had spoken with Sansa for what she anticipated having been half an hour before entering her small solar. Curtsying, she motioned to a chair at the table. "Won't you please sit, Father? I had water freshly drawn," she said, pouring water into the two goblets sitting on the table.

Her father sat and she noted that his scowl was not more pronounced, so nothing Sansa said had made him more apprehensive. He looked around the room before addressing her. "Why Lord Willas and not Edric Storm or Devan Seaworth? Both will be knighted soon. I am not anxious to legitimize Edric due to his being your uncle's son, but I would do so if you desired. I could eventually make him Lord of Dragonstone. Or young Seaworth. He isn't from a great house, but I believe he will be a man much like his father."

He could have no idea how the talk of the man Devan would become pained her, and she steeled herself to show no sign of it. "I do hope you will do all you can for Edric, Father. My attachment to him is keen, but it would be difficult for me to live with him as anything other than a cousin. Cousins do marry, but we are cousins through both our fathers and our mothers – the relationship is too close, do you not think?"

"Yes," he returned and she assumed he was agreeing with her about the closeness of her blood relation to Edric. "And what of Devan Seaworth?"

Shireen would do anything not to lie to her father and hoped she could avoid telling him that she did not want to marry him because she did not want to marry someone she cared so much for and not see it returned in like manner. "If we may, Father, let us talk of Lord Willas' suit first. Afterward, if you find you cannot approve the betrothal, we will discuss what other prospects I may have."

"I have no objection to him personally. All reports of him make him as he has seemed while a guest here."

"It is his family you object to?" she prompted.

"You know my past with Lord Tyrell, which I must put aside for the sake of the realm. His fealty is directly proportioned to his desire for more prominence than he currently has or deserves. The same seems to be reputed of his daughter and youngest son. However trustworthy and noble Lord Willas may be, you will be marrying into House Tyrell."

"After giving Lord Willas my approval to speak with you, I have had time to consider the same," she began. Shireen then laid out her fears regarding the idea that a son, should she and Lord Willas have one, could bring about consequences that were unthinkable, yet could be avoided. Her father listened and she saw his eyes light with a pride that she hated to admit gave her a sense of warmth. "I do not think Lord Willas has even considered such," she said, in conclusion, "Yet there must be a way to ensure there is no possibility. As part of the treaty, may it be stipulated that the Tyrells give up the right of my children being heirs to the Iron Throne?"

There was no question her father was wearing his amused scowl. "It can be done. May I ask what it is about Lord Willas that garnered your approval of him as a husband?"

"Father, I know of the offers you have received thus far and have not spoken to you that I was aware of them as I was grateful they were not considered. I also have not spoken of them as I did not want to give the impression I was anxious to leave King's Landing, for I am not. " Shireen stopped and took a drink of the water she had poured for herself. She did not want to elaborate as he might conclude she felt slighted. There was no denying that being offered second and third sons of houses they were already allied to when you were the daughter of a King would be seen by many as being slighted and it was likely he knew and resented it. "Lord Willas did not propose the offer he was sent here with. He spoke of his brother not being one who would particularly want a family. Seemingly, Lord Willas does. We find we are not at a loss for things to talk about when we are together and have much in common."

If her father caught her meaning in the latter part of her statement, he did not choose to remark on it. "Very well. I will discuss your approval of Lord Willas and concern about the Tyrell advantage with Davos and then do the Small Council the courtesy of believing they have a say in the matter. If they were amenable to Ser Loras, which I was not, they should be amenable to Lord Willas. Whatever comes of this, your welfare will be our primary concern."

When they both stood, her father didn't make to leave immediately and she instinctively knew he was searching for the words to say whatever it was he wanted to say. If it took him this long to articulate, it was something personal. Shireen walked around the table until she was in front of him. Smiling up at him shyly, she placed her hand on his arm. "Whatever it is Father . . . more likely than not, it is something I already know and it need not be said."

The King cleared his throat and suddenly wore his embarrassed scowl. It was a scowl few would ever see. "When the Queen says such things, I assume she is sparing me from making a mummer of myself,"

"Your ladies know you well, Father," Shireen replied softly, a bit of a smirk on her face.

 _Humph_ , the King snorted before he bent and kissed the top of her head. He had been doing this sort of thing for years now, but it still caught her by surprise and nearly brought her to tears. "Shall I escort you back to the Queen's solar before I am away to the Map Room?"

"Thank you, no," Shireen murmured. "I should like to rest here a bit before I return. Our prince has, of late, decided I am a wall that he is trying to scale."

Her father nodded and pulled himself away from the hand she had forgotten was on his arm. "Then I shall see you at supper," he said before he left her.

Alone again, Shireen sat back at the table and took another sip from her water goblet. Panic rose like bile up in her throat. By the end of this day or perhaps as long as the end of the sennight, it was quite possible she would be betrothed. She had thought of many things regarding this marriage and leaving home, but for the first time, Shireen considered the wedding night. Now was NOT the time to rest. She needed to return to the solar . . . she had much to ask Sansa!


	21. The Best You Can Hope For

Sansa

Sansa had been prudent in arranging it so that she had no obligations other than family for the days around the treat with Lord Willas. While she knew the time would not be restful, she had not quite planned on it being stressful either. Stannis had been anxious from the beginning, uncertain he could arrange a treaty that did not include a marriage between Shireen and Ser Loras while equally determined the match would not occur. An anxious Stannis meant she was more diligent than usual about ensuring neither she nor the children did anything to add more stress. Once Ser Loras turned out to not be a problem for consideration, the one that came in its place in the form of Lord Willas replaced anxiety with frustration in Stannis. This was not surprising. He worked at being prepared for all contingencies and he was not at all prepared for the offer Lord Willas made.

Then there was Shireen, who had been making an admirable effort to appear calm and to keep all her emotions inside. Her placid demeanor broke down this afternoon when she realized that, with a wedding, came a wedding night. That was when Sansa began to feel the strain. It had not been that long since she had faced this fear herself. Her lady mother had told her two things, both of which clearly conveyed the message that the night could go very wrong. The first message had been that it would get better after she was free of her maidenhead and the soreness had subsided. The second message had been that,  _if_  that first night went well at all, it would be because Stannis made it so. Fortunately for her, he had. There had been pain, to be sure, but it was short lived and Sansa realized, with the experience she gained later, that it was because he had taken the time to prepare her beforehand. Her mother had not told her to ask him to take the time. Had she done so, Sansa could not have imagined how to go about it. Thusly, she could not tell Shireen to make such a request either. She tried not to be as vague as her mother had been but did not want to scare Shireen by making it sound like some great mystery that could be either good or bad no matter what she was to do. In the end, Sansa told her that Lord Willas had shown himself to be kind and patient, and if that were his true nature on their wedding night, all would be well.

As Sansa sat on their bed and waited for Stannis to join her, she wondered if Lord Willas had replaced Devan Seaworth in having Shireen's affections. She had not betrayed the girl by saying anything to Stannis about her attachment to the son of his Hand. However, she had hinted that making the two young men Shireen was most familiar with available to her as marriage prospects and giving her a choice might alleviate the problem of her being used as part of a treat. Despite Shireen's denial that she wished to marry neither Devan nor Edric, Sansa had thought that when faced with the prospect of leaving home and marriage to someone she barely knew, she might reconsider. There was a selfish motivation to it all. Sansa was not the least bit eager to see Shireen leave King's Landing unless she truly wanted to, and there was no sign of her desiring to leave. Tonight, she had learned to her great relief that, if Lord Tyrell agrees to all other terms in the treat, Stannis had managed it so that Shireen would not be leaving King's Landing immediately after a marriage. For the first time ever, Sansa said a prayer for the health and long life of Lord Tyrell.

When he opened the door, Stannis looked wearier than she had ever seen him. It was the kind of weary that eluded rather than aided in sleep. Sansa knew when he sent word that he would be having supper with Davos and Lord Willas that he would come back, tell Shireen what he could, and while he would be restless, he would be too distracted to do more than lay beside her and continue to contemplate on the matter at hand. She wasn't sure she would be able to sleep for this contemplation would include teeth grinding and a rigid stillness that unnerved her.

A thought hit her as he walked toward the bed. Elise often rubbed oil onto Sansa's arms and lower limbs, and it often soothed the ache she occasionally felt when she had carried Steffon too much during the day. Sansa had even been mildly devious and distracted Elise in talking about some romantic gossip so that she would continue the task in order to finish her story.

"Would you indulge me in something?" Sansa asked, rising from the bed and meeting him before he sat down next to her. "I believe it will help you rest."

Stannis took in a breath and let it out. She knew that was a sound he made when he either did not agree with her or wished to do as she asked, but did not, at least not yet, consider it worth arguing. "What would you have me do?"

She pinched a small piece of the fabric of his undertunic between her fingers, "Take this off and lay on our bed, on your belly so that I have access to your back."

His scowl deepened and his eyes narrowed. "It is not the position I normally sleep in. Why would this help me rest?"

"It may not help," she confessed. "Yet it will not hurt and I will feel as though I tried to aid you."

Stannis regarded her suspiciously but complied by bending forward and pulling the undertunic over his head and then tossing it on a chair. Sansa smiled at the sight of him unclothed. He still made time for the training yard and it showed in the muscle and sinew. Being king had not made Stannis flabby as it had made his brother.

"Do you wish me to lie under the fur?" he asked, breaking into her admiring thoughts.

"Until I am finished, keep the bedclothes pulled back and lie on the linen," Sansa instructed. She was looking on the table where Elise kept her oils for one she thought Stannis would not find objectionable. Her eye caught one that smelled of rosemary. She took it to the bed and surveyed the form of her husband's bare back while she decided what to do next. It seemed easiest to sit on his flanks and he let out a  _humph_  when she did so; which she sincerely hoped was a sign of surprise rather than one that she was too heavy.

Pouring a generous amount of oil in one palm, she put the stopper back in the bottle and strained to reach the small lamp table next to the bed to set it aside. Once done, she rubbed the oil in both hands and then ran her palms firmly along his back, kneading them as she had seen the cooks at Winterfell do with bread dough. She continued this action, spreading her hands up to his shoulders. For a while, Stannis lay perfectly still and quiet, and then sounds came from him that made her pleased at the success of her efforts.

"How did you manage to convince Lord Willas to stay in King's Landing until he becomes Lord Tyrell?" Sansa asked, hoping talking about today's events would help him release it from his mind. It was a slippery slope, for it could bring up something he would dwell on all night.

"It was his idea," Stannis said, his voice reacting to her pressing down with her fingers on an area near his shoulders where his muscled felt as though they had bumps or knots in them. She was certain this was not supposed to be and was even more certain when they seemed to disappear as she continued to work them.

"What did he suggest he do in staying here?"

"He asked that I consider whether he could be of service and that was the bulk of my discussion with Davos before sending for Tyrell. On the surface, there is much to recommend Lord Willas. He had every excuse not to go into battle, yet he has done so and with success against the Ironborn. He also is more even tempered than his father, shown by his lack of resentment toward Oberlyn Martell although the same cannot be said for Lord Tyrell. Lord Willas appears to be his own man and not his father's lap dog. I suspect that is why Lord Tyrell wished the younger son sent here." Stannis stopped, grunting from the pressure she was exerting on his neck. He did not tell her to stop.

"So you do think he can be of service to you?" Sansa prompted, continuing her preoccupation with ridding him of the worrisome knots in the muscles along his shoulders.

"I cannot add him to the Small Council without causing offense to others who have been of loyal service. My secondary Councill has no official positions, yet Davos came up with the viable notion of having him in charge of seeing to rebuilding efforts, both structural and peace between families. He seemed to find the prospect of interest." Stannis paused when she returned to running her palms firmly up and down the sides of his spine.

Sansa was satisfied with the feel of tension leaving his body under her hands. "Despite the very weighty concern Shireen brought up about an heir, which you said he quickly agreed to the condition that their sons would not be in line for the throne, I can see no other ulterior motive for his offering for Shireen other than a sincere regard. I am not saying it can yet be named love. However, they both seem to respect and enjoy each other's company."

She did not understand how what she said would cause him to begin to tense up again, but it did. Her arms were beginning to tire, but she kept it up and waited to see if Stannis would give her a clue about his concerns. Instead, he asked her to stop what she was doing, so she dismounted his backside and moved to the side of the bed. When he turned over on his back, she raised the bedclothes up to his waist and intended to lie next to him, but did not move from her seated position when she saw the intensity on his face in the dim firelight.

"How can we know whether Tyrell will make her happy?" he asked gruffly. "No one seemed to consider your happiness when the match between the two of us was made."

"Happiness in marriage does not just happen. Whether you admit it or not, Stannis, you worked at my happiness, just as I did yours. It took compromise and consideration; it still does and it always will." Sansa gave him a wickedly beguiling smile that she wasn't sure he could see well enough to appreciate. "It has not hurt that we have found some passion along the way."

Stannis eyes darkened and although his scowl had not changed, his tone was lighter. " _Some_  passion? My queen, you wound me."

"Had you not had such a long and difficult day, I would do far more than that, Your Grace."

"Would you, now? I am not so aged that a long day of sitting cripples me," he replied, reaching toward her and tugging at her nightgown. "We are not equally dressed. It is disconcerting and while you speak of consideration, it is not at all considerate of you."

Sansa grinned, stifling an outright laugh. Stannis was flirting! She could not quite remember him doing this before. Perhaps he had, but nothing had ever registered with her as his doing so. She slowly rose up on her knees and pulled the nightgown off over her head. "Is this better?" she asked coyly.

Gently, but firmly, Stannis reached up for the arm closest to him and pulled her down to the bed while he moved to his side to loom over her once she was there. In an unusual move for him, he did not kiss her first but lowered himself to nuzzle and lave the sensitive part of her neck, sending delicious shivers through her. His free hand moved to caress one of her breasts while his mouth roamed downward until he took her other breast into his mouth, and Sansa let out a moan. Stannis' mouth continued to explore her body while his hand went lower and his fingers worked to bring her partially to release before he moved her thighs apart to accommodate him. As he eased himself into her, she wrapped her legs around him and raised her hips to meet his. Sansa thought for a moment that, despite the solar between the bedchamber and the corridor, Ser Lambert of the King's Guard  _must_  be able to hear the sounds they both were making. It was a fleeting thought as her ability to think coherently left her. His pace quickened and she screamed his name when her release came, followed by a few last pumps and a satisfied groan as he joined her.

Sansa cuddled close to him as he lay back on the bed and put his arms around her. They both were silent until their breathing to return to normal. "There are those who believe our marriage is a success because you are a beauty in the way Selyse was not. That is not so."

Sansa waited to see if he would explain this further, but it did not seem he would do so without encouragement. "What is the difference?" she asked, the rhythm of his chest rising and falling lulling her and causing her to yawn.

Stannis yawned in response. "It is much as you say. You were wise enough to know our marriage was something that must be worked upon, and we both cared how this went. There is a part of me that will always feel guilty that I did not truly make an effort with Selyse. Had I, as you did with me, she might have met me halfway. I wish I knew how to convey this to Tyrell and Shireen."

"Shireen has admitted to being a close observer to the marriages around her, and as such, she probably already knows. As for Lord Willas," Sansa paused as another yawn hit her and she moved her hand off his chest to cover her mouth. "As for Lord Willas, was it not his even temperament and proven ability to seek reconciliation rather than adversity that formed the basis for the work you and Davos chose for him? Are those not the very things that will make him, as you say, meet Shireen halfway?"

Stannis leaned forward and kissed the top of her head. "If Lord Tyrell agrees, the deed is done. I suppose I am beyond the point where I can worry this any further. "

"That is true. I believe you have done well and, when I consider the criteria my lady mother used to choose you for me, Lord Willas would be my honest choice after meeting him. Even over our original choices of Devan Seaworth and Edric Storm."

This piqued his interest. "What criteria are you referring to?"

Sansa yawned yet again. "She looked at the choices for my husband and, with the wisdom of her years and her own marriage, she considered whom she would choose if she were the one about to be married."

While what she said was something her mother had hinted at before the wedding, Sansa expected her words to receive either his version of a laugh or a grunt of derision. Instead, Stannis seemed to consider her remark thoughtfully. "Catelyn did know me well enough to know I would keep you safe and see that you were treated with respect. Is that the best I may hope to achieve for my daughters?"

Sansa was having a difficult time staying awake but made the effort given the subject. "My Love, perhaps that is the best you can do . . . and the rest is up to them."


	22. Follow the Leader

Willas

His lord father had sent a raven with two words in response to the lengthy document sent by raven with terms and a codicil added with the King's own seal that it was a matter of accepting all or starting term negotiations over again. The words sent in reply were: Accept All. It carried his seal and conveyed the intended message – he was not happy. Willas wished his father had more appreciation for the generosity in forgiving House Tyrell's allegiance with Renly Baratheon in all but allowing the marriage of the Princess Shireen to his younger brother or allowing Loras' presence in King's Landing. What was astounding to Willas was the King's generosity to him personally, for he was not known for that particular trait. Willas had defied his father and proposed himself for Shireen rather than offering for his brother. Once the King agreed, which he did not do lightly or immediately, he proposed that he take the brunt of Lord Tyrell's anger by making it seem he had denied the offer of Loras and claim he would only agree to a Tyrell marriage if it were to the heir of Highgarden. At first, Willas had turned down the proposal, thinking it made him appear cowardly. He could and would stand up to his father. However, Lord Seaworth made a compelling argument on the importance of the treat and that it would only cause undue problems if his father chose to view him as traitorous to his house. They were correct – it was how his father would view his offer and desire to marry Shireen and it was very likely he would react by sending word that Willas no longer spoke for House Tyrell and send Garlan or Loras. He possessed the power to do so.

Willas did not share his father's preoccupation with the Tyrell bloodline and the Iron Throne. Securing a peaceful future for Highgarden was enough for him, and finding a wife in the bargain was a benefit he had not foreseen. It wasn't that his being crippled had hurt his prospects. The truth was that he had avoided a match and his father had been too preoccupied with his ambitions outside of Highgarden to insist on the marriage of its heir. The pressure in that quarter had come from his grandmother, Lady Oleanna. The Queen of Thorns, as she was often called, had privately been pleased the King had turned down the offer for his sister, Margaery, and her son's grand plans of sacrificing her in order to be the grandsire of a king had been thwarted. However, the idea that there was someone who was not enamored with her granddaughter had rankled and she was not overly fond off the King. Willas had a feeling that, despite her animosity toward King Stannis, she would be pleased with Shireen's manner when or if they were to meet. At first, his grandmother would think her too obliging, just as he had until the day in the training yard when the squire of Lord Manderley referred to Edric Storm as "the royal bastard" within Shireen's hearing. She had not made a public display and save a bit of angry fire in those her eyes. He had finished a morning of training in combat from his horse when she arrived to give an audience to the swordplay between Edric Storm and the Manderley squire. The altercation had been the standard name calling that occurred in the yards. When the training exercise was over, Shireen asked the squire for a moment of his time and Willas only happened upon the verbal flaying because he had been looking for her to escort her back to Maegor's. Not one unladylike word had escaped her, yet the squire was left shaking. Of course, a good bit of the boy's fear was based on the dressing down coming from the King's daughter, but Willas still found the whole experience satisfying. He doubted she would ever stand up for herself; however, she would not hesitate to stand up for anyone else and most particularly those she cared about.

One of the terms of the betrothal was that the marriage would not take place for five moons and would not be announced to the rest of the realm for two. While he assumed the King wished for time should Shireen change her mind, Willas suspected the rumor would spread to the rest of the realm before a fortnight was up. No one expected the faraway houses to travel to the wedding in winter, yet they would be insulted if they were not told in time to make that choice. The King's marriage to the Queen had coincided with his coronation and fewer houses were in alliance, so the advanced notice for travel had not been necessary.

The morning after terms had been made accepted by his lord father, making the betrothal official in the eyes of House Tyrell and House Baratheon, Willas invited Shireen for a walk in the gardens of the Red Keep. Only the bottom of her blue gown was visible under the furs that covered it. She also wore a scarf of the same color wrapped around the top of her head and completely covering her neck. Her manner was shyer and more reserved than it had been rather than less. His compliment on the scarf was met with an awkward blush rather than the polite smile similar words had received in the past. Moreover, she kept looking straight ahead rather than alternating between that and moving her head sideways to address him as she usually did. When over a quarter of an hour had passed and Shireen had barely spoken, Willas confronted her. "Do you already regret the betrothal?"

"No, My Lord," she answered quickly but did not elaborate. Shireen still did not hazard a sideways glance at him, keeping her eyes ahead. Perhaps she knew her emotions were most readily discerned in her eyes.

"Are you unwell or do you find the morning too cold for a walk?" Willis thought neither of them applied. It was the only prompt he could think of short of asking her outright what was making her so withdrawn.

Shireen bit her lip nervously. "I am not entirely certain what the proper decorum is during one's betrothal. I was told you would . . . follow my lead. I considered the matter for most of the night and I . . . I cannot imagine how I go about leading that for which I have no clear direction. I broke my fast earlier than the Queen and when I went to discuss it with her further, she had been called away to visit one of the ladies of the court."

While Willas found her dilemma endearing, it took great restraint not to laugh. This was not the time for teasing her. Wishing to see her face better, he asked if she minded if they sat for a while. Shireen complied by sitting on a bench hewn of large timbers from the forest. Instead of sitting next to her and facing the same direction, Willas sat facing the opposite way, encouraging her to move sideways to face him. "If I understand correctly, your concern stems from the notion that, now that we are betrothed, there may be some changes in our behavior toward one another and you wish to know what is acceptable?"

Shireen's forehead scrunched up; he could not tell if it was in thought or in consternation. "A friend and I were sitting similar to the way we are now and he took my hand, meaning to hold it. I was not prepared and did not know if such was appropriate between us or if, perhaps, it would be seen as a wish for a change between us. My reaction was not properly schooled and the friend was offended. When I asked the Queen if his action had been appropriate and I overreacted, she suggested his behavior should not be encouraged. It should only be condoned when done by someone with whom you are betrothed or married. Putting my reminiscence together with her advice, I find myself uncertain whether she was saying I was expected to take your hand . . . that cannot be correct. It seems such a forward thing to do. Nor do I have it clearly defined what is expected or possible or permissible." Shireen paused and as implausible as it seemed, blushed even more. "I apologize for my ignorance and how backward this must seem to you."

Willas was positive Shireen's analytical mind would occupy him for the rest of their lives together, but the charming innocence that accompanied her thoughts, and therefore, her words, would not provide him quite this level of enjoyment for much longer. He was also amused by the image he had of Edric Storm taking her hand and her startled reaction disarming him. "I admit I have not given the matter the consideration you have. That said, would you not feel more comfortable if we were to decide for ourselves and agree on it mutually rather than relying on the Queen to give you advice leaving you to wonder if I am aware of the same protocol?"

Her forehead relaxed, if not her whole body. "I had not realized how isolated I have been until I realized how few betrothed couples I have observed to have my own knowledge of the ritual. Sansa . . . Her Grace . . . barely saw my father before their wedding. I also suspect you are correct that this is something we should work out privately. We both know what would be beyond the boundaries of propriety, so our defining what happens up to that point is wise."

Willas moved his hand, palm upward, to the side of where her hands were folded in her lap. "For instance, I should very much like holding your hand . . . if you approve."

Shireen cautiously laid her small hand in his and he gently enclosed his fingers around it, relaxing their joined hands on the small area of the bench between them. Changing the subject to make her less self-conscious, he began to tell her of his plans for his new appointment. This was an area where her questions and comments were anything but naïve and she was decidedly knowledgeable about the history behind many of the deeply rooted squabbles between the great houses. The bulk of their discourse was on the difficulty of reconciliation between House Martell while a Baratheon sat on the Iron Throne. House Greyjoy would be difficult to reconcile with any other house and what was left of House Targaryen or houses sworn to them who were still loyal would side with Daenerys if it is true she has dragons and is attempting to cross the sea to Westeros.

"I have long regretted my estrangement from Lady Myrcella Martell and still think of her as my cousin despite learning we do not share a bloodline," Shireen reflected thoughtfully. "I wonder if she would respond were I to attempt to correspond with her. Our fathers and older brothers may not be willing to reconcile, but those of us who are younger and do not remember the differences of the past may yet do so."

After a bit more conversation, the chill in the air increased and Willas felt her shiver slightly through the hand he still held. He started to remark that he should return her to Maegor's and a warm fire when, looking into those dark blue eyes, he raised his other hand to her unscarred cheek and ran the backs of his fingers along the softness left exposed from the scarf she wore. Rather than flinching, she briefly closed her eyes before reopening them and returning his gaze more intently than before.

"Would it be acceptable, at this point in our betrothal, to kiss you?" he asked instead. The desire to do this took him by surprise. There were many things he could answer if asked why he had made this match. Foremost would be his respect and admiration for how she handled herself and was not hampered with bitterness over her fate. That would be followed closely by the fact that he enjoyed her company and found she held his interest in ways other young ladies had not. He had not really considered the intimacy side of this relationship other than acknowledging it would exist as it did in all marriages.

Shireen said nothing, but leaned closer, turning her head up toward him with her eyes wide. He first lightly kissed her upper lip and then her lower. When she did not pull back in the expectation that that was all she expected from a kiss, he pressed his open lips more firmly against hers and lightly touched the seam of her lips with his tongue to see how she would react. Shireen hesitated for a moment before opening her mouth to him. Letting go of the hand he had been holding, Willas moved both arms around her and pulled her closer before exploring the sweetness he found. He felt himself beginning to harden when her tongue began to dance with his and he pressed even closer before he realized he could easily take this too far and frighten her, not to mention go beyond those boundaries she had mentioned earlier. Careful to not make a sudden movement that would imply a dissatisfaction he definitely did not feel, Willas pulled back slowly from the kiss and took her hand again. He was grateful for the rush of cold air that separated them.

Her wide-eyed gaze trained on him again as she straightened up and he waited for them both to gain a measure of composure. Willas hoped she was not disappointed in what he suspected was her first kiss, but could not resist the urge to tease her a little. "Might I assume that did not go beyond the boundaries of propriety?"

Shireen's backbone straightened although there was a twinkle in her eyes. "This is what I wanted all along."

"For me to kiss you?" Willas asked with a smirk.

With innocence he knew wasn't entirely genuine, but neither was it entirely all feigned, the exposed parts of Shireen's cheeks turned pink again. "I wanted for  _you_  to take the lead."


	23. Nothing You Can Do

Marya

It was not a comforting thing, being everyone's confidant. It was particularly so when what you hear from one loved one was at odds with another you hold dear. She had not been prepared for news of Shireen's betrothal. The expectation before the arrival of Lord Willas was that he was offering for his younger brother and that the King found that prospect totally unacceptable. Davos had been pleased when Lord Willas proposed himself rather than his brother, but Marya was crestfallen. Despite the warnings from both Davos and Devan that it was impossible for Shireen and Devan to marry, she had clung to hope for as long as she could. She assumed the opposition would come from the King or from the Small Counsel. Marya had not expected the opposition would come from Shireen.

In two days' time, Devan and Edric Storm would be knighted, and both would be leaving King's Landing. The time for this event had been pushed forward by the King's desire to send Edric Storm away. The boy, for she could not think of him as a man due primarily to his sulky demeanor, was miserable at the news of Shireen's betrothal and was making those around him miserable too. As Ser Edric, he would go first to Dreadfort to continue training with Lord Clegane and then move on to Winterfell to take over as Master of Arms. Despite not being encouraged to leave as Edric Storm was, the future  _Ser_  Devan asked to return home to Cape Wrath and act for his father as head of the seat of House Seaworth. It went without saying that she and Davos were unlikely to ever return there to live as liege lord and his lady; the house was Devan's in all but name.

Marya could set aside how much she would miss her oldest living son and be happy with his return to Cape Wrath. What she could not set aside was the recent scheme Davos had informed her of as they lay in bed last night. The King was promoting a betrothal between Devan and Arya Stark; a match that had been suggested by Devan. The Queen had been made aware that the offer was being drafted the previous night as well and this afternoon, it surpassed plans for the celebration of Devan's and Edric's knighthood as they sat in her solar in Maegar's Holdfast. Their daughters were napping and Steffon was playing in his nursery with the son of Ser Aedan.

"From our correspondence, I do not see Arya desiring to marry. It would make me very happy for her to accept Devan and live at Cape Wrath. I would be able to see her again! But I feel it is more likely that she will bully Rickon into letting her stay and do as she pleases," Sansa remarked.

If this put an end to the plan, Marya would be relieved. She had no idea whether the Queen knew the rumors about her sister and while she regarded Sansa as her closest friend outside of Davos, she did not want to be the one to tell her. The King had made Ser Axell Master of Whispers out of a sense of loyalty to his late wife and his inadequacy forced Davos to develop his own network of informants. He acknowledged he had heard this rumor about Lady Arya within a fortnight of Lord Clegane's raven announcing the new maester had arrived. Davos admitted the speed with which this rumor had started made him dismiss it as false. When the rumor made its way to King's Landing through other means, he was forced to tell his King. King Stannis had asked him not to speak of it to Sansa; however, if she did not know of the talk by now, she was the only one in the Red Keep who did not. Like Davos, Marya was inclined not to give credence to the rumor solely based on the speed with which it started. But she also knew that if the rumor had traveled this far and become so widespread in such a short time, it did not need to be true to do damage.

"I am flattered the match is even being considered," Marya responded as she shifted uncomfortably in her chair, unable to think of anything else to say.

She had learned that Lady Arya's fall in reputation was at the core of Devan's suggestion to his father that the match be proposed. His assumption was that a marriage was not likely for several years, as Lady Arya would insist she needed to stay in Winterfell until her brother was older and more able to take on his duties with the aid of the steward. Davos had explained that Devan reasoned this would allow time for her passion for the maester to burn out and that she might be more receptive to marriage in a few years' time. Unless she submitted herself to a septa and proved her maidenhead was still intact, the sullied daughter of a great house had fewer options. One of those few options was to marry the son of a new house. Devan knew this because it was how a match was made for his brother, Dale. Alys had been the daughter of a house sworn to House Baratheon who had been bedded and then had her reputation besmirched by the very man who had seduced her. Had it not been for that, her marriage to Dale would not have been likely. The marriage had been a success for its short duration. If Marya believed Lady Arya was natured like her sister, she might think this an acceptable match should it come about. Lady Arya Stark, however, did not sound like she was remotely natured like her Queen.

"You are less conversant than usual today," Sansa broke into her thoughts, looking up from her needlework. "You do not approve of a possible match between Devan and Arya? You will not offend me if such is the case."

Marya tried to smile. "My apologies. It has nothing to do with your sister, whom I am sure is lovely. I must admit I had clung to the notion that there might be a match between Devan and Shireen. I'm afraid I am too prone to forgetting she is a princess of the realm and not merely a sweet girl I have watched grow into a young lady ."

"I had hopes for them too," Sansa confessed to Marya's astonishment. "While it is something I dislike talking about, there has always been the worry that she would be either slighted by not receiving offers or be matched with someone who was forced into the match and resented it. It is disingenuous on my part at how willing I have been to think ill of those making an offer outside of Devan or Edric. They grew up seeing beyond her scales and I feared those who have not had time to get to know her would not. That is ridiculous because I loved her immediately. However, I was particularly worried about Ser Loras for I know beauty to be of great importance to him. As for Lord Willas, I cannot find any insincerity in either his regard for Shireen or his manner towards her."

"Yes, I see no insincerity in him," Marya agreed. Among Shireen's loved ones, there was that which would never be vocalized – that even if Shireen had not had the lamentable scars from her bout of greyscale, she would not be thought pretty, much less beautiful. The poor girl's given combination of Baratheon and Florent features had not been ideal. And just as Sansa had said, Marya too had not expected those who had not known the girl for years would see beyond their eyes and find the sweet-spirited and gifted young lady within. If Shireen ever worried about this, she had never made it known.

"Stannis had not planned to announce the betrothal to the rest of the realm for another moon, but it would look foolish now that everyone seems to know. He wanted to announce it at the feast for Devan and Edric, but Shireen insisted he not do so. She wants it to be their day."

Marya breathed a sigh of relief. It would be too cruel for the day Devan had looked forward to for so long to include the proclamation of his loss. "That is generous of her," she countered and then voiced her concern. "Will the King forestall? It would mean another celebration feast, would it not? He is loath to have them as it is."

This received a laugh from Sansa. "You are quite right. Shireen is not as reticent about a feast as her father, but neither does she enjoy them. It was Lord Willas who suggested that the announcement be made, but it also be said that it would be celebrated along with Shireen's nameday, which is around the same time as originally planned. He said Shireen would not be up to celebrating just before the departure of her long-time friends. I believe he is aware of Edric Storm's affections for Shireen and it is to his credit that he did not wish to rub salt in the wound."

Lord Willas had proven to be very perceptive though one did not have to have any special talent in that regard to see Edric's disappointment. "That is kind of him. Davos says he was making great strides in improving the Iron Throne's relations with House Martel."

"Stannis is pleased with his efforts as well," Sansa reported, holding the nightgown she was making for Catelyn up to inspect it. "Most of all, Shireen seems happy."

Marya could not begrudge Shireen any happiness, no matter how much she might have wished that happiness had been found with her son. "Then that is all that is important."

Sansa stopped her needlework and looked at Marya; there was sympathy in her eyes. "I know you are not happy that Devan will be leaving. No mother would be."

She was grateful there was an obvious excuse for her mood. "Again, I apologize for being such poor company. I am worried about him, of course. I think of the knights who have remained unmarried and I hope that is not the case for Devan."

"Devan once observed that Shireen was a different person when it was just the two of them," Sansa reminisced. "I asked him what made her different and he said she was more spirited and that he preferred that spirited Shireen to the one she became when the rest of us were present. If that is true, he would like Arya. Unless much has changed, she is spirited no matter who is present."

"You have said she is not likely to agree to the match."

"As much as I might wish otherwise, I do not think she will agree to betroth herself to anyone. I do not know what she plans to do when Rickon is older and there is a Lady Stark at Winterfell again. Arya will not give way easily and Rickon will be forced to act. I would write to Arya and tell her what a fine husband she would have in Devan and how I had wished for him for Shireen, but I'm afraid my approval might sour her opinion."

Marya smiled blandly; it would have been the same with her younger sisters. "I confess, even after all this time, I am not used to how marriages are arranged in the nobility. I am grateful I did not have to marry in such a fashion, yet two of my sisters followed their hearts and now find themselves miserably chained to men they despise. If a man marries someone he finds he cannot abide, he may ignore her and bed others, and no one will shun him. A woman does not have that freedom, and I am not saying they should . . . I'm saying, it is more critical when we and our daughters marry than when our sons do. Despite the freedom and options a man has if he finds himself unhappily wed, I want a good marriage for Devan . . . for all my boys just as much as I do for Alysane. I don't want to think of them despising the women they are bound to have children with."

"I must say," Sansa replied, staring out the window at the dim sunlight. "The only man or boy I knew who did not have an appreciation for Arya was Joffrey. She showed him for what he was . . . a coward. My brothers adored her. She does not charm the way we think of a lady charming a man. She speaks and acts as their equals, and most seem to find her manner of doing so charming. Perhaps, if it does come about, Devan will find her charming too."

"Perhaps," Marya granted without much enthusiasm. ". . . Perhaps." Because, in the end, she knew there was nothing she could do except watch it all unfold.


	24. The Gift

Stannis

Stannis nearly slumped from the strain of the day as he entered the bedchamber lavishly furnished for the king on the Iron Throne. He hadn't thought of it as his bedchamber for years now. It was the division he changed clothes in and used as an entry room to their bedchamber, his and Sansa's. Tonight was the first night in he wasn't sure how long that he actually sat on the bed after removing all but his undertunic. An illness from Lady Olenna had caused the wedding between Shireen and Lord Willas to be postponed another three months from the time originally planned. But now the time had come and being civil to a preening Lord Tyrell and dealing with the interruptions to his routine caused by the convergence of the prominent members of House Tyrell for the wedding of Shireen and Willas was more tiring than any battle he could remember. Both Sansa and Shireen begged him to overlook the feigned politeness and condescending behavior of Lady Margaery and Ser Loras. It took great effort, but not as much effort as it took to overlook the worried and saddened expressions on the faces of Lady Tyrell and the Queen of Thorns when they watched the couple. It was obvious no one from House Tyrell, other than Lord Willas, was happy about the marriage with the possible exception of his brother, Lord Garlan. This was a time when he preferred to believe in the faith of the Seven. The thought that there were seven hells they could be damned to was satisfying to say the least.

As he sat there, Stannis remembered the night before his wedding to Sansa. Catelyn Stark drank too much wine and, forgetting herself, gave him unwanted advice about his wedding night. While it had been unwanted at the time, it was some of the best advice he had ever received. He briefly wondered if could bring himself to pass on the same advice about doing more than ones duty on their wedding night. Stannis rather suspected Willas Tyrell did not need to hear it. Lord Willas was not marrying a stranger; his daughter and he had become inseparable during the time they waited for this wedding. Stannis could not complain about his treatment of Shireen, or about how he was doing the job that had been concocted for him. It was rather amusing that Willas had made a success of a function that been created with no real expectations. He not only made himself invaluable at something no one believed would be valuable, he made Stannis and Davos appear to have a great deal of foresight for putting him in charge of this thing they called the rebuilding effort. Stannis may not enjoy his familial alliance with House Tyrell and he may be worried about how the family will regard Shireen in future, but he was not unhappy with Willas Tyrell. It would be years before he stopped watching his good-son with an eye of suspicion and it would be no different when it came time for their Catelyn to marry. For now, it appeared that Shireen had chosen well for he had to admit it was she who had made this choice.

As for choosing, Stannis had not chosen Sansa. Looking toward the small, dark corridor that led to their bedchamber where she waited for him, the thought occurred to him that she had turned out to be a gift. His gift was in pain at the moment and trying to hide it for Shireen's sake. The rumors of her sister, Arya, bedding the new maester at Winterfell had finally reached her, months after others knew of it. Worse than that, she realized it was a belief in these rumors that prompted the offer of marriage from Ser Devan to her sister. Sansa had been stunned that Arya agreed to the match if she were allowed to wait until Spring, which Maester Pylos thought was another two years away. Ser Devan and House Seaworth readily agreed to her terms. It all made sense when Sansa learned the rumors, but for quite a while afterward she believed they were rumors that forced Arya into accepting – not that there was any credibility to them. Sansa viewed her younger sister as boyish and one with no interest in marriage. Count on his queen to consider marriage as the only motive a lady had for losing her maidenhead willingly.

Concerned it might be true that Arya had not been willing or that she did not resist because she had unwillingly lost her maidenhead while trying to get home when forced to run from King's Landing, Sansa sent her a raven boldly asking the veracity of the rumors. The reply she received left her in no doubt. Not only was Arya willingly bedding down with this Maester Pate, she intended to continue to do so until she left Winterfell. The humiliation Sansa felt when she was around Davos and Marya weighed down on her heavily, although no words were said. Privately, Davos told him Marya was rightfully concerned with the notion that the girl would continue her dalliance until she left Winterfell. If a betrothal did not keep her faithful, what said a marriage would? Davos insisted he looked on it as a good match and while he did not articulate it, Stannis knew Davos' concern was that the one way in which their families were to truly be joined may be far less than a joyous liaison and cause a division between them. Because it was left unsaid, he could not respond to it. They continued as if this were just another of the many events of the realm.

Meanwhile, Ser Devan Seaworth seemed to have developed some sort of relationship with his betrothed. Davos relayed that Devan sent her a raven capable of travel between Winterfell and Cape Wrath to add to the few ravens currently held at Winterfell and that they now corresponded regularly. It seems Arya had suggested that he fortify Cape Wrath's lack of fighting men by offering to move, house, and train some of the wildings at The Gift, which currently did not have enough resources for the number of people there. Wildlings were already moving down into Winterfell, where resources were equally scarce. Ser Devan and Lady Arya worked together with Lord Clegane and the end result was that ships were sent from Cape Wrath to the port nearest Dreadfort where over 100 men and their families, all capable of both fighting and tending the land, sailed back to Cape Wrath. The latest report was that, once the majority of them recovered from seasickness and other ailments from a voyage in Winter, they were settling well. It seemed fitting that one of the newest Houses in the land was peopled with the newest settlers.

Donning a robe, Stannis made his way through the corridor, extinguishing the candles that had been lit as he passed. He found his queen sitting on the fur in front of the fire with her robe drawn tightly around her slender frame rather than in bed. He didn't look forward to sitting on the floor in this cold, but still he joined her there. Sansa moved so that she was able to lay her head on his shoulder. "Are you anxious about tomorrow?"

"Yes," he admitted. "I imagine I'm not as anxious as Shireen."

"No," she agreed with a light laugh. "Although I believe she is also very eager."

"You were not eager," Stannis observed without emotion, staring into the flames and grateful he could now look at them and enjoy them for their warmth rather than looking for signs of the future.

"I was terrified," Sansa confirmed softly. "Not only was I marrying the king, I was marrying a man I barely knew."

"You were marrying an older man you knew to be cold as the ice on The Wall." he corrected.

"I knew no such thing," she insisted, snuggling closer. Stannis didn't mind that her memory was vague on this point, preferring her romanticized version of events rather than the truth. "I knew I was marrying a great king who deserved a more capable queen," she added.

Stannis realized it was his cue and while flattery was on the other end of the spectrum of things he considered himself proficient in, he did his best. "I suspect you are even more highly regarded than Good Queen Alysanne in her time. As for what I do or do not deserve, this very night I was thinking of you as a gift."

He could tell this pleased her and it never failed to astonish him that Sansa cared so very much for his regard. It astonished him even more how much he cared for hers. One day he hoped he could say the words properly, but until then, he satisfied himself that she recognized his love for her.

"We probably should try to sleep. Tomorrow promises to be a very long day." Sansa moved away from him and gracefully stood. With less grace, but a dexterity he could be proud of for one his age, Stannis rose to join her and follow her to their bed.

Sansa got in first, pulling the bedclothes over them once he was beside her. Again, she snuggled against him. "Goodnight My Love."

"Goodnight My Queen."

The last conscious thought he had was of a scene he had witnessed the evening before as his family gathered prior to putting the children to bed for the evening and preparing to meet the rest of the visiting Tyrells for supper. It was an image of Sansa holding Catelyn and smiling down at her while Shireen patiently tried to quiet her brother as he told her he didn't like the fat man. Behind them, Lord Willas was trying not to laugh at Steffon's animated description of his father. No matter what the morrow would bring or the day after or the day after that, King Stannis drew strength in the knowledge that he did his best for his realm and for his family. He drew strength from the woman he held, his gift, as he drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who have read this piece and this series! When I wrote this, I intended to write a follow-on that went into the relationship that developed between Devan and Arya . . . it never happened, but know I intended them to grow to be very fond of each other after Pate/Jagen H'ghar (who Arya was never with after she accepted Devan's offer - especially since Pate/Jagen told her he could not stay at Winterfell and had other missions to fulfill) left for Braavos.


End file.
